Up to Re-Ascend
by YeahImThatGirl
Summary: My predictions/hopes for where season 2 is headed. Starts off Sara/Oliver and will end up Felicity/Oliver. Similar plots to episodes but I reserve the right to use my own creativity so it won't necessarily be canon. You don't have to read "The Descent to Hell" to follow this story; however, the character development will be similar. Picks up from "Heir to the Demon."
1. Chapter 1: Valley of the Shado of Death

A/N: This is a story following my predictions of Season 2 leaving off from "Heir to the Demon." This is not canon and although it isn't necessary to read "The Descent to Hell" a lot of the character development will be similar. This first chapter is just a brief prelude and chapter 2 will pick up with my usual one sided POV back and forth. Enjoy! (As always - don't own Arrow)

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Oliver:

Laurel's face blurred around the edges—a mirage of the girl he knew six years ago into the girl he saw today. She was too thin, her skin drawn taught across the bones of her face. Her lips were moving and he tried to focus on her words.

"You betrayed me Ollie," she whispered. He tried to apologize, to say anything to make it better, but his tongue was too thick. "You betrayed Sara. You killed Tommy! You failed the city…" her voice trailed off as her brown hair turned blonde and her face morphed into the sharper features of her sister.

"Sara," he was able to gasp out, reaching.

"Don't touch me, Ollie!" she screamed. Her face wore the mask of fear that it had worn when she slipped from his fingers into the ocean. "You did this to me," he looked as she transformed into the assassin she was today. "You made me this monster—this is what I had to do to survive," she whispered as her face faded. Replacing her was Helena Bertanelli.

"You think you can fix people, Oliver, save them even?" she questioned, laughing once without humor. "You're throwing stones, yet look at your glass castle," she grinned, and someone was calling his name.

"Oliver!" Felicity, he breathed. He would know the sound of that voice anywhere.

She suddenly stood before him, and as if it were natural—as if he had been doing it for years—he fisted his hands into her blonde hair and pushed his mouth against hers.

She didn't stop him, but pulled him closer. He slid his hands down around her waist, finding purchase on her hips. She moaned softly against his lips as he ran his hands across her ribs, something warm and wet sliding across his fingers—

Blood poured from a hole in her chest. She looked at him with startled eyes and when Oliver looked at the wound, trying to find some way to stop the blood flow, he cringed at what he saw.

A Green Arrow protruded from her chest, from the exact location where her heart should be.

Sara:

She had spent her whole life building careful walls around her heart, each brick formed from heartbreak, loss, or tragedy. Then he road in on his white horse—or his fancy motorcycle, whichever floats your boat—and started tearing those walls down, brick by brick. But what no one realized was that hearts were like flowers. They required sunlight and rain and dedication from the gardener, not darkness and downpour and neglect.

So when the last wall fell and you stood to admire your prize, all that remained was cold, black coal.

And as a small piece of you turned to ash that day for your efforts, the circle of life turned on.

Felicity:

When she had first met Oliver, she had assumed, like everyone else, that he was a pretty-faced playboy. She didn't trust guys that thought with the wrong head, but as his lies got worse, she assumed that no one could be _that_ stupid.

Then, when she had found him bleeding out in the back of her Mini, all of the pieces of the puzzle fit together; and she really hated puzzles.

Damn him for not being just a pretty-faced playboy. _Of course_ he couldn't just be attractive. He had to be kind and heroic and caring. The one person she couldn't have would _of course_ be the one person she wanted.

She had never been in love. Laughably, she had never even had a real relationship. In high school, she had been too much of a nerd and in college she was too focused on proving herself. Now she had no idea what to do with someone like Oliver Queen.

They say that love is all you need, that love can move mountains, resolve problems, and win wars. In truth, it can't save a single person.

Slade:

He had always been fascinated in the meaning behind names. Sebastian's last name was only fitting, he thought—he sought political power, and he was willing to pay the debt in the blood of anyone who stood in his way.

Shado, he thought of her now, as he looked out over Starling City. He imagined her, racing between the areas of light and dark as she had when she had been alive.

He thought of his own name, of the continual valley he seemed to be in since her death. If he couldn't find a way out, then he would find a way to drag others down to hell with him.

Oliver had already lived through purgatory; it would only get worse from here. Death would be a release from this life, and his sentence has yet to be carried out. Oliver Queen had not yet atoned for his guilt and the people in his life would pay with him.

Faces flashed through Slade's memory: a body guard trying to play sidekick, a blonde trying to catch the attention of someone incapable of love, a ghetto street fighter who thinks he can change the world, a family that Slade never had.

He had warned Oliver, years ago, that people were a distraction—a weakness—and Oliver hadn't listened. Slade intended to exploit that weakness.

Even though he walks through the valley of the Shado of Death, because he is evil himself…


	2. Chapter 2: Who I Should Be

A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews/follows/favorites! Expect another chapter (maybe two) within the next 24 hours!

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Oliver's head rested against Sara's bare shoulder, their breath coming heavy, neither willing to speak first. Yet again, the going got tough and Oliver had jumped between the metaphorical sheets with a woman he didn't have romantic feelings for; Felicity would have been so disappointed in him if she would have seen him now.

"Oliver?" he sighed, hearing Felicity's voice in his head. When he had kissed Sara, he had tried to envision a different blonde in his arms—this was apparently his karma.

"Oliver!" Felicity stood just over Sara's shoulder and he realized that he hadn't been imaging her voice at all. She had come back to the foundry looking for him, no doubt to check if he was ok after the events with Nyssa and his mother, and she had found him in the arms of yet another woman.

He moved to grab his clothes off the floor of the foundry and Sara quickly did the same. Sara at least had the decency to look slightly ashamed at getting caught, unlike Isabel had.

"I'm so sorry," Felicity muttered as she grabbed her tablet off her computer tables. Her eyes were averted, but Oliver could see the tears gathering in the corners. "I should have called before—or not even, I should have known—I'm just, I'm sorry—" her voice broke at the end as she nearly ran up the stairs towards the doors.

"If you don't go after her, she won't come back Ollie. You don't want to lose her," Sara's voice somehow convinced his feet to move across the cold floor and into the chilly night air. Felicity stood at the door of her car, fighting with her purse trying to find the keys.

"Felicity, wait, please!" he shouted as he jogged towards her. He still wasn't wearing a shirt and he was hoping that she would be as affected by his bare chest as she normally was.

"Oliver, please, just don't. Not right now," she muttered, but he didn't listen. He took her purse and sat it on top of her car, turning her so he had her full attention.

"Just talk to me. I can always trust you tell me the truth, so _please_, Felicity," he begged—he would get down on his hands and knees if he had too.

"You wouldn't like what I had to say right now," she warned.

"Please Felicity," he whispered, brushing his fingers over her cheek. He thought that there wasn't anything worse than the hurt look on her face, but he was wrong; the face she wore when she met his gaze chilled him to the bone.

"Oliver, if I were to say the things I wanted to say right now, I would quit. I would walk away from the Arrow business because I think you manipulate me. You _know_ how I feel about you and you use that, you use_ me._ I understand you don't return the sentiment but—"

"Felicity!" he interrupted, but when she held up a finger and gave him her angry face, he nodded, letting her continue.

"It's one thing if you don't feel the same, but for you to use _my_ heart against me? That's not what friends do and it certainly isn't what _partners _do," she spit, turning his words from several weeks ago against him. "And if I quit the Arrow business, you bet I would quit at Queen Consolidated because I am _not_ and executive assistant Oliver Queen!" her voice rose as she spoke and he flinched. He had taken physical wounds that had hurt less.

"Please," he whispered, not even sure what he was asking her anymore.

"You expect me to be truthful with you, but you can't even be truthful with me!" she continued. "I risked losing you to tell you the truth about your mother and sister and you can't even be honest with me about where we stand. So don't ask me to tell you the truth right now, because Oliver, right now, the truth is, I would quit."

He looked at her and he knew she was serious. His mother had threatened that he would hate Felicity for telling him, when in truth, Felicity would eventually grow to hate _him_. She was everything good—light, truth, kindness—and he was everything opposite.

"I can't lose you," he looked at her, feeling true fear since the first time he had picked up the bow and realized he could defend himself—what he hadn't learned was that one can't always defend the heart.

"I know," she sighed, shutting her eyes. "And I wouldn't be me if I walked away. So please, don't ask anymore of me tonight. Let me go home and sleep. Please," she looked at him and he realized that Felicity rarely asked anything of anyone. He could give her this.

"Ok, just," he paused. He wasn't sure he could ask her to promise this. "Come back."

"I always do," she whispered, brushing her fingers across his face. "She at least makes more sense than Isabel," she smiled up at him as she climbed into the seat of her car. Leave it to Felicity Smoak to joke about his sex life.

"She's who I am," he stated simply. Then he added, "You're who I should be."

Her smile slipped slightly as she started her car and he watched as her tail lights disappeared around the corner of Verdant.

His mortal flaw was that he thought he could save everyone he cared about—he wasn't stupid and he had lost enough people over the last several years to know the impossibility of the task. Felicity's fatal sin would be thinking that she could save him.

At some point, a man that had been cracked so many times could only be one thing: broken.


	3. Chapter 3: Sun and Other Stars

If a heart broke and no one was around to hear it, does it still make a sound?

Felicity staggered into her apartment nearly thirty minutes later. She was exhausted. Over the course of several days she had found out that Walter wasn't to be trusted, had been threatened by one very powerful Moira Queen, watched Oliver's heart break as she told him the news about Thea's paternity and his mother's deceit, and then walked in on Oliver and Sara after a moment of what looked to be some pretty intense make-up sex.

She needed a drink.

But first she just needed to lie down. She stumbled in the dark towards her couch and she let out a large sigh when her feet finally came off the ground.

Until a bright light flipped on overhead.

She frantically searched the corners of her apartment until her eyes landed on the blonde, leaning against the corner by her kitchen. She was dressed in a pair of old sweatpants and what Felicity assumed to be one of Oliver's sweatshirts. Sara held a bottle of wine, slowly walking forward, swinging it back and forth like a white flag.

"I'm not used to having friends," Sara murmured. "Allies, yes, they are vital in a fight; enemies most definitely, but friends?" Sara looked at Felicity and for a moment she saw a glimpse of the girl that Sara would have been had she not been shipwrecked six years ago.

Felicity took the bottle of wine as Sara sat on the couch next to her, accepting the truce. She liked Sara, liked her attitude, her fight, her ability to adapt and survive. She envied the hold that she still seemed to have over Oliver.

"Do you need a place to stay?" Felicity asked. She half hoped that she wouldn't accept, because Felicity considered her home to be her one place of sanctuary from her other lives. The other half of her hoped she would, because then she knew that Sara wouldn't be staying at the foundry with Oliver.

"No," Sara shook her head slowly, smiling. "I think I'm actually going to stay with my father for awhile," she muttered in way of explanation.

"Oh," Felicity couldn't be sure if this was the truth, but she wasn't sure what to say after that. She didn't want to bring up what she had walked in on, but at the same time, she couldn't think of another reason that Sara would be here.

"You and Oliver are a lot alike," Sara looked at her as she opened the wine bottle and took a long drink.

"Not really," Felicity muttered, flushing slightly. She took the bottle when Sara handed it to her and took an equally long drink. She noticed that the label was one sold at the club and almost laughed.

"You're both too selfless for your own good. You both see the good in everyone but yourselves. You're both willing to do whatever it takes to save those you care about. But Felicity?" Sara's voice held a warning in it, and Felicity's stomach turned, anticipating what Sara was about to say.

"Someone always cares more in a relationship. And whoever that person is, they always end up short-changed," Sara's blue eyes locked with Felicity's and for one moment, they were both just two girls, discussing boys.

"Men," Felicity sighed, as she rolled her eyes, taking another drink. "I guess I can kind of understand why you dated Nyssa for awhile," Felicity flinched as soon as the words left her mouth. It wasn't so much that Sara had been with Nyssa, it was that she had been with Nyssa and still come back to Oliver.

Luckily, Sara just laughed. "Trust me," she smiled. "Women aren't any easier. Nyssa _did_ just try to bring me back to the League, poisoned my sister, abducted my mother, and threatened to kill me—talk about drama," Sara laughed again as she took the bottle from Felicity.

"Fine," Felicity laughed once. "You win," she did feel marginally better, if she ignored the fact that Sara had just slept with Oliver.

"I won't be the one to walk away from him," Sara looked at her, their conversation turning serious. "He's the one person that ties all of my lives together," she shrugged as she explained.

Felicity only nodded. She didn't know what to say. Her place in Oliver's life seemed replaceable. He had managed without an IT expert before, she was certain he could do it again.

"He might not _need_ you as an IT expert for Team Arrow," Sara started and Felicity realized that she had spoken aloud. "But he _wants _you, and that makes all the difference. Oliver has never been the kind of person to need anyone, but when he wants them, he keeps them. It's why he couldn't let go of my sister, it's why he's worked so hard to save me, and it's why I _know_ he will make the right decision when it comes to you," Sara raised her head, meeting Felicity's eyes, and heat flooded Felicity's cheeks.

Sara stood, leaving the bottle on Felicity's side table as she walked towards the front door. Felicity wanted to ask a million questions and at the same time, she wanted to sleep for years and never wake up.

"Wait!" Felicity nearly shouted as she unfolded herself from the couch.

Sara raised an eyebrow, trying to decipher Felicity's desperate look.

"Why did you come here—tell me all of this?" Felicity tried to ask all of the questions bouncing inside her brain and narrow them into this one.

"I don't know," Sara shrugged. "I won't say that tonight meant nothing—sex never means nothing, even if it doesn't mean what you think it means," Sara looked at Felicity pointedly. "There are times when a man will kiss you, and you know it's forever, then there are other times where you know it's for one night," Sara paused at the sick look on Felicity's face, but she kept going. "Then there are times where goodbye hangs your lips for hours after and instead of tasting bitter or disappointed, it just tastes like closure."

Felicity nodded, feeling the tears well in her eyes. The last kiss she had was from a drunken frat boy at a college graduation party. It had only tasted like beer.

Sara walked out the door and Felicity slid down the wall, the wine running like heat through her body. After her conversation with Sara, she felt marginally better. Sara didn't love Oliver, Oliver didn't love Sara, and per Oliver's usual conquests, Felicity assumed that the worst was over.

If she could work with the troll Isabel Rochev, she could most certainly work with Sara.

She slid into bed an hour later after a long, hot shower and sat her glasses and tablet on the bedside table. She had just shut her eyes when the screen lit up and she slid her glasses back on, wondering who would be contacting her this late at night.

Oliver: _I'm sorry_

She looked at the screen. Another apology from Oliver Queen, and this time she had proof.

Felicity: _It's ok_

She was tired and she really didn't want to have this conversation via her tablet. She sat it down, but just as she did her screen lit up again

Oliver: _You're pretty remarkable_

She smiled—a true, bright, Felicity smile.

Felicity: _Well, thank you for remarking on it_

Oliver: _I make mistakes, but you make me better_

Felicity didn't reply. She thought that Oliver _was_ better. She didn't see him for the playboy 'Ollie' that he was before or the stranded captive he had been on the island or even as the CEO Mr. Queen/Arrow that he was today. He was just Oliver—and that made him all of those things and so much more.

Oliver: _I don't want to fight anymore; I don't want to fight _you_ anymore. But already my desire and my will were being turned like a wheel…_

He trailed off and even in the secret darkness of her bedroom she blushed. She knew the rest of the quote from Dante's _Paradiso_. She laughed once at the irony. The word meant "paradise" and it came after _Purgatoria_, or Purgatory in Dante's Divine Comedy.

Felicity: _…by the Love that moves the sun and other stars_


	4. Chapter 4: Whoever Fights Monsters

A/N: Wow, first of all, every single review/follow/favorite is amazing! Having said that, let me explain where I'm coming from to those who seem upset by where I'm taking the story. I know I've gotten some responses that my readers don't like how Oliver is treating Felicity and how Felicity just seems to let it happen, so just a little insight into how I think. Love is messy and it always occurs between two broken individuals. Either those broken pieces fit together to make a whole, or they grate on each other like shards of glass, until there's nothing left. All of the classic love stories-Romeo & Juliet, Wuthering Heights, Jane Eyre, hell the Notebook-we love them not because they're perfect, but because they _aren't._ People are fatally flawed and that complicates everything. My favorite superpower for any hero is their humanity and because of that humanity, Oliver makes mistakes-_big ones_-Felicity falls in love with someone who doesn't always respect her, and Sara looks for love in all of the wrong places. It makes them ugly, mean, and cruel occasionally, yes, but most importantly, it makes them human and it makes them _real._

* * *

His eyes blurred as he read the one hundredth page of some legal contract or other for Queen Consolidated. He sat in his high rise office and looked at the blonde sitting at the desk just across the glass. She hadn't left, like he was truly afraid that she would, but she wasn't the same either.

He had been so concerned that, after asking her to join his mission, the things she would witness would destroy her light. He remembered her shocked and pained expression the first time she had seen a man die on her computer screens. He had snapped at her, angry that she had sent him to the wrong location. His mind quickly flashed to a panicked Felicity as she stood before him, an explosive attached to her delicate neck. From there, he thought about the Count, his vial of poison poised over her carotid artery.

He should have somehow known that the greatest poison to Felicity Smoak would be himself.

Shaking his head, he stood, running his hands through his hair. He had to make this right. He had talked to Sara. He had tried to explain that he would be there for her—as a friend. He knew that what they had done couldn't be undone. She had told him that there was no point in feeling guilty over something that couldn't be changed, but his stomach still felt queasy.

He stalked around the edge of his desk and when he walked past Felicity's monitors she barely spared him a glance. He had seen many sides of Felicity—angry, overly happy, scared, hurt—but never had he seen her reserved, and that scared him.

He continued towards the small break room several doors away from his office. John had been waiting outside the door and Oliver noticed that the man had followed him into the room, but Oliver refused to turn around and confront him.

"You wanna talk about it?" Diggle grunted out. Men weren't known for their abounding communication skills and the talent was even worse between the ex-military man and the shipwrecked survivor.

"Hmph," Oliver grunted, opening cabinets, looking for a very specific coffee cup.

"Too bad," John muttered, rolling his eyes as he shut and locked the break room door. "We promised to protect her when she joined this mission—that includes protecting her from you," John glared at him, and Oliver bowed his head, knowing that he deserved whatever ass-beating Diggle was about to hand out.

"I know," he murmured. "I don't know how to fix it this time," Oliver looked at the man, willing to accept his advice.

"Tell her to leave," John looked at him solidly and Oliver realized he was serious. His chest ached at the thought. He didn't deserve Felicity, but he wasn't about to be the one to send her away.

"I can't do that," his voice cracked, just imaging his office without her bright colored dresses; he thought about going on a mission without her voice in his head.

"Why not?" Diggle raised an eyebrow and Oliver suddenly realized that the answer to this question was vital.

"She's—she's everything," Oliver tried to explain, lacking the right words. "She's just, she's—Felicity," he finished. Because her name fit, like just saying her name was everything that was necessary to explain to Diggle why he couldn't just walk away.

John nodded as if he understood. Oliver sighed, his eyes landing on a purple, flowered coffee cup sitting in the drying rack. He reached behind Diggle and began preparing a pot of coffee. Diggle raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

He poured a cup and added two sugars and a bit of cream. He turned, but John only folded his arms over his chest, blocking his exit.

"Oliver, you're fighting—"

"A war," Oliver finished flatly. He knew what he was up against, but John only shook his head.

"No, you're fighting monsters, and whoever fights monsters should see to it that he doesn't become a monster himself," with that John stepped out of the way, allowing Oliver to lead them down the hall.

He took a brief moment to gather his thoughts before he sat the cup on Felicity's desk. She looked at him startled, a small flush forming on her cheeks and not for the first time, he wondered what she was thinking when that heat flooded her face.

"For you," he nearly whispered. He had never had to work at women. He wasn't blind to the way that women responded to him and he knew that he had abused that too much; he also knew that Felicity was right in stating that he manipulated her.

"Thank you?" her voice rose at the end, like a question and Oliver sighed. She was one of the strongest women he had ever met. He knew that she considered herself weaker than Sara and even Laurel occasionally, but in reality, she was stronger than both of them with softer edges.

"I don't deserve you Felicity, and you have every right to leave—"

"Oliver!" she interrupted.

"No," he held up a hand, instructing her to let him continue. She was always the one he trusted for honesty and it was time he returned the favor. "I was so afraid, for so long, that being close to me would put a giant target over your head—either me as Oliver Queen, CEO or as Oliver Queen the Arrow. Then I thought back to the explosive necklaces and the vials of Vertigo and _hell, _even lightening strikes," he muttered, realizing all of the terribly fatal things that could happen to someone. When he looked at her, she was smiling slightly and he realized that he, Oliver Queen, was rambling.

"Oliver?" Felicity questioned, refocusing him.

"Bad things _have_ already happened to you. I think what I feared the most was the very real possibility that I would hurt you, accidently, or purposefully—and then I realized that that had already happened too," he looked at her apologetically, but she only held his gaze.

"What about Sara?" she arched an eyebrow and for a moment Oliver was slightly confused.

"What about her?"

"You guys are what? Vigilantes with benefits, together…" her voice trailed off and Oliver gained a small piece of hope from the look of jealously that crossed her features before turning to indifference.

"Neither. We've talked about it and we are _all_ going to help her adjust to coming home, but I told her I couldn't be with someone I didn't care for," he looked at her, wondering if she would understand what he was saying.

"Oh, well it's nice that she's staying," Felicity stated, and Oliver was slightly surprised that she meant it. "And of course we'll help her settle in—Wait, that you _don't _care for" Felicity's eyes darted to his and this time he didn't have to guess at the reason for the blush creeping across her features.

"I was told a long time ago, by someone I once trusted, that caring for people was a distraction, a weakness. I lost a lot because I let emotions cloud my judgment. I thought he was right and I wasn't going to make that mistake when I came home to the people I truly did care the most about. But you Felicity, you care so much for people—me, John, even Sara—and it doesn't make you weak, it makes you stronger," he looked at her and she averted her gaze.

"You can't keep yanking me around Oliver," she said, trying not to look at him.

"I know," he admitted, walking around the side of her desk, pulling her out of her chair and tilting her head up so he could read her eyes. "And I won't make promises, because I know how weightless it would seem right now, but you make me believe that I can be better," he looked back towards John, standing discreetly in the doorway with his back turned and added, "I'm fighting monsters and I need someone to remind me I'm human."

"That's all I've ever wanted you to be," she murmured as her sky blue eyes met his steel gray. "The best heroes always are," she added, smiling.


	5. Chapter 5: Happy Families

A/N: Anyone else _dying _from the lack of Arrow this week? Next Wednesday won't get here soon enough... So my love and sympathy goes out to all of the suffering addicts - I'm right there with you!

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Felicity sat at her desk, the tip of a pen resting against her pink lips. Her head was still spinning from Oliver's 180 degree turn around. She wasn't stupid and she truly believed that there was a very good chance that he had said those things to keep her from leaving. On the other hand, if he _was_ serious… A girl could hope, right?

The problem was, she didn't have time to clear her head. Everywhere she went, she was surrounded by Oliver Queen. If only—

"Ms. Smoak," her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Mr. Steelee's voice coming down the hall, towards the office. She glanced at Oliver, knowing he wouldn't be happy to have his ex-step-father and the co-conspirator with his mother to cover up Thea's paternity waltzing into his office asking for her. She wondered briefly if Moira had sent him, a final slap in the face.

Suddenly, John was blocking her view of Mr. Steelee and she knew that she had about ten seconds to decide if she was willing to speak to him before John sent him away or even worse, Oliver realized he was here.

She stood from her desk, calmly, so Oliver wouldn't notice her movements. She nodded at John, letting him know it was ok.

"Ms. Smoak, I need—"

"To leave," Oliver finished, and Felicity flinched at his Arrow-voice. She gave him a look but he only signaled for her to stand back as he put a hand on Mr. Steele's chest.

"I believe that choice is Ms. Smoak's," Mr. Steele leveled his gaze at Oliver and Felicity realized that she had never realized how ugly business could be. "I came by to speak to her, if she's willing to listen?" at this, Mr. Steele glanced at Felicity and slowly Oliver's gaze followed.

"I," she started, unsure. A week ago, when Mr. Steele asked her to jump, she merely said 'How high?' Now she wasn't sure whose side he was on. She regarded him thoughtfully, recalling how Moira had used her feelings for Oliver against her, and considered that perhaps Moira had manipulated Mr. Steele's as well. "I'll talk to him," she said, walking closer.

"Here," Oliver nodded, folding his arms over his chest, and she knew he didn't intend to leave.

"How could you do it," Felicity looked at Mr. Steele and her voice broke slightly. She had never really had a father, and when Mr. Steele had taken her under his wing she had looked up to him.

"_That_ is not why I'm here. Although had I known you would go to Moira…" his voice trailed off, shaking his head. "That was a mistake," he finished on the subject and Felicity wasn't sure if he meant his involvement or hers.

"So why are you here?" Oliver questioned, obviously unwilling to have the man in his office longer than necessary.

"There's been several robberies in Starling City recently and we have reason to believe that Starling National Bank is next," he looked at Felicity, but Felicity's eyes slid to Oliver's. Nothing out of the ordinary had shown up on their searches.

"What does this have to do with Felicity?" Oliver asked, his voice slightly protective.

"The thief never enters the bank; as far as anyone can tell, the money is there one moment and gone the next."

"He's stealing it wirelessly," Felicity muttered, walking behind the desk and firing up one of the computers—she looked at Mr. Steele, wondering if he noticed that the technology on her desk was too advanced for a regular Executive Assistant. If he noticed, he didn't comment on it.

"Which is why we would like your assistance," Mr. Steele was asking Felicity, but looking at Oliver. "Starling National would like to borrow Felicity for the next few days in cooperation with the Starling City Police Department. When they finally realized what was happening, she was the first person I recommended," Mr. Steele looked at her, and she almost thought she saw pride in his eyes.

"No," Oliver interrupted before Felicity could speak. "Absolutely not. I need Felicity here," he looked at her, knowing that she would be the one to argue.

"Oliver—Mr. Queen," she corrected quickly, looking at Mr. Steele. "This is something that needs—"

"I'll step out into the hall and let you two, discuss," Mr. Steele held a hand up as stepped into the hall.

"Oliver," she pulled him further away from the door so that their words wouldn't travel. "If I'm going to do what I do with you at _night_ then doing this during the day could be really beneficial," she argued reasonably.

"Or it could get you killed," he shot back.

"Really Oliver?" she questioned. "Hackers aren't usually mass murders; they're more like me than like you and Sara."

"Have you considered that Walter and my mother," he said her title like an expletive," might have something more planned. I don't like it."

"Of course you don't," she placed her hand over his, not caring who was looking. Let Walter tell Moira. "My life, my choice, remember?" she saw him close his eyes and she felt bad for pushing him, but she needed this. She needed to prove that she could do something for someone other than Oliver Queen—and the break from his steel gray eyes would be appreciated.

"You'll come back," he said it like a command, but his face held a question and she knew exactly what he was asking.

"I'll be at the Arrow Cave tonight at seven," she smiled faintly when he half-grinned at her terminology. "You can have Big Belly Burger waiting," she turned as she starting packing her things. When she had loaded her lap top and tablet into their respective cases, she looked back at Oliver, standing there looking slightly lost.

"Be careful," he murmured, running his calloused hand over her elbow.

"I'll take good care of her," Mr. Steele spoke as he walked back into the room, taking the cases from Felicity.

"Somehow, I doubt that," Oliver put on his _seriously_ angry face when he looked at the man and even Felicity flinched. Noting her reaction, he turned to her and gave her his most charming smile, adding, "See you tonight," and a wink—Oliver Queen just winked at her—in front of her ex-boss, whose ex-wife probably wanted her golden head on a silver platter.

She walked towards the elevator, refusing to look back at Oliver. When she stepped on, she suddenly felt too self-conscious to look at Mr. Steele as well.

Then he hit the stop button and the elevator came to grinding halt.

Her eyes flew to his, and for the briefest moment, she wished that she had let Oliver speak for her. Right now she could be talking to him, in his office. Instead, she was trapped on an elevator with a man she no longer trusted.

"Do you fear me Ms. Smoak?" his head cocked, he studied her as he asked.

"No," she whispered, the answer not even reassuring to her own ears.

"Good," he grinning without humor. "I'm not the monster here. If you are to fear someone, Felicity, fear those above me," he looked at her, a warning in his eyes. With that he allowed the elevator to move again.

"I don't know what Moira has against you, but I can help—"

"Moira and I were _happy,_" and she could have almost believed him, had he not overstressed the word to the point of pain.

"I guess Tolstoy had it right then," Felicity muttered, and then when she saw Mr. Steele's confused look she added, "'Happy families are all alike, every unhappy is unhappy in its own way,'" he only grunted as they stepped out of the elevator, faking civility. It was going to be a long few days and she already couldn't wait for seven.


	6. Chapter 6: Mene Mene Tekel Uparsin

Oliver walked down the steps to the Arrow Cave, smiling as he recalled Felicity's earlier terminology and her demand for Big Belly Burger. In his hand he carried a bag of burgers and fries and he wasn't disappointed when he stepped down to see her blonde head turning towards him. His shoulders relaxed from a tension he hadn't realized he had been carrying.

"There better be an extra-greasy hamburger in there for me and a large thing of fries," she muttered, walking forward and taking the bag. From the side, he registered the sound of the salmon ladder and noticed Sara punishing herself for something.

"I never disappoint," he grinned, trying to look charming. He had never had to _try_ to get a woman's attention, but he desperately wanted Felicity's. "What did you find out today?" he asked her, knowing that Felicity liked to get right down to business.

"This guy is good, like _really_ good," she muttered around a fry as she sat down at her computers. "He times his robberies perfectly so that he's entering and exiting during the vault's security analysis. It means that he doesn't have to use a brute force attack to infiltrate the system as a hacker, he can just slip on in when the system is at its weakest,"

"Banks let that happen?" Roy emerged from the shadows and Oliver considered how good the kid was getting at creeping around.

"Don't get any ideas," Felicity looked at him with a smirk and Roy rolled his eyes. "But yes, they have to. Consider it like an update or a system check. Even our computers run them occasionally, although I scatter the times so that it would be more difficult to plot an attack," Felicity looked at Roy, but he only nodded, his eyes slightly glazing over.

"So, does that mean I get to go into the field again?" he looked at Oliver expectantly and Oliver only sighed.

"Not a chance. You might have pulled through the last time, but only after you nearly killed two guys," Oliver explained.

Roy's eyes flashed momentarily with anger, but then cooled. He took a seat on the edge of the desk, and Oliver got lost in the sound of Felicity's voice explaining the ins-and-outs of computer security and breaches.

"So what do we know about this guy?" he asked, after Felicity paused, drawing in a breath.

"Not a lot. I don't even have a name," Oliver almost grinned at the look of annoyance on Felicity's face. "His calling card is a clock, and his digital signature is 'Tick Tock' so the police have been calling him the Clock King—which is quite fitting considering the impressive timing of his heists."

"Well, let's run some checks on people who would have reason to rob banks and the technical know-how to pull it off," Oliver placed his hand on her shoulder without even thinking. She tensed momentarily under his grasp and he released her.

"You might need to go talk to her," Felicity whispered, looking at Sara, still working her way up and down the ladder.

Oliver nodded, dreading the conversation. He was slightly jealous of Felicity's ability to control her emotions; it would make her a good fighter—he paused at the thought. He would do whatever it took to keep Felicity from the battle zone.

"Sara," Oliver spoke over the sound of clanging metal, getting her attention. She dropped to the ground, gracefully, looking at him, completely void of emotion. He recognized that face, he had seen it in the mirror often enough.

"What Oliver," she spoke in a monotone.

"What happened?" he leaned against the side bar, letting her know that he wasn't leaving until he found a problem he could fix.

"You said that my family wanted me back, Ollie. My coming home won't bring my parents back together, it won't save Laurel—hell, she won't even _look_ at me," she crossed her hands over chest, challenging him to debate with her the merits of her return.

"No, it won't," he shook his head. "We were refugees for _years_ fighting to just stay alive while everyone back home went to college, fell in love, and moved on with life. It isn't going to be the way that you left things Sara, but maybe that's not a bad thing," Oliver looked at her, hoping she would here the unspoken words: _Because I know that I don't want to go back to the Oliver I was before._

"Maybe I want to go back," Sara whispered.

"How about a welcome home party—a little bit of the old word and the new one?" he asked. She only nodded and he was saved from further discussion as the sound of Felicity's frantic voice filled the basement.

"Oliver!" she shouted, standing and meeting him half way, half dragging him back towards her monitors. Across the screen scrolled four words in a language that Oliver didn't recognize:

MENE MENE TEKEL UPARSIN

"What does that even mean? Who's doing that?" Oliver looked at her, slipping into his demanding tone.

"It's Hebrew, 'numbered, numbered, weighed, divided,'" Felicity muttered, typing furiously. "He's somehow breached our firewall…" her voice trailed off as she concentrated.

"God has numbered the days of your kingdom and brought it to an end," Sara spoke behind him, and he turned to her as she spoke. "You have been weighed on the scales and found wanting. Divided, your kingdom will be," she looked at Oliver as he stalked past her, reaching for his bow and quiver.

"Oliver?" Felicity's voice sounded so strangled behind him that he turned, a fear blooming in his chest.

That was when the first server exploded, filling the foundry basement with smoke and sparks, blocking his view from Felicity, whose surprised scream could just be heard over the sound of the static filling the air.

He made a move to rush forward when the second server exploded, next to Felicity. Roy caught her before the force of the explosion could send her to the ground. He tried to move forward, but Sara caught his arm.

"We have to get out of here," she shouted. "Roy has her!"

"Go!" he shouted, she hesitated, but he nodded and she shrugged, running forward.

He worked his way to Roy and Felicity and when he reached them he didn't even hesitate, he grabbed her, despite her protests about saving her computers, and followed Roy out of the foundry.

"What the hell happened?" Sara asked as soon as they made it outside.

"Tockman," Felicity sputtered, glaring at Oliver as he sat her down. She leaned against the side of the building and he could tell that she had twisted her ankle when she had nearly fell—it was those damn heels she was always wearing; sexy as sin, but not practical in the vigilante business.

"Who?" he asked, clearing his thoughts.

"His name is William Tockman. He's basically a genius," Felicity muttered, obviously put out by the man's intelligence. "I was reading up on information about him when the breach happened. He had to have timed those devices perfectly, or synced them to detonate when I reached a certain point in my information finding…" her voice trailed off and Oliver grabbed her shoulders, gently, focusing her.

"Why would it have been timed to _your_ research?" he asked. He didn't like the idea that this psychopath was out for Felicity.

"Why would an archer want to take you on?" she raised an eyebrow, recalling his encounter with Merlyn.

"To see who is better," he muttered.

"Exactly. Yes, he's a criminal, but he's an intelligent one. It's no fun committing crimes if the people attempting to catch you don't even have a clue where to start. I've just given him a reason to make this his best heist yet."


	7. Chapter 7: Final Corners

Felicity sat at what remained of her computer desks. She worked furiously over the inadequate screen of her tablet, cursing under her breath.

_Yet again you've failed._

_Yet again you've not measured up._

_Yet again you've let someone get the best of you._

Her subconscious threw a barrage of negativity at her psyche and she slowly lowered her blonde head towards the tablet, letting the glare from the screen burn her closed eyes.

The sound of fighting sticks smacking off of each other in the background wasn't helping her concentration. Sara and Oliver had been training when Diggle decided to join in. Two against one, he and Oliver attacked Sara from every side, and to her credit, she was able to ward them off successfully each time.

Felicity stood, carrying her tablet with her, drawn to the three moving effortless as if in a dance. They were all sweating and heavy breathing, but somehow they were still talking—exchanging war stories and battle scars.

"Layla once got us in a fight—" Dig was saying as he dodged a pass from Sara's bamboo stick. "—we have matching cuts from the same knife throw," he managed to mutter.

"How romantic," Sara muttered back, getting a strike in across the back of his left leg. "I crawled through the streets of Chu Han with a broken tibia—" she swung under Diggle's staff only to get thwarted with Oliver's. "That was when Nyssa found me, lying in an alley," she grunted once again, managing to hit them both with one swing.

Felicity looked at Oliver, her eyes flickering over his scar riddled body. She had always wondered where they had come from, but she had never felt it her place to ask. Apparently he didn't feel it the time to share now, either.

Her tablet vibrated, telling her that the information that she was seeking on Tockman had finished downloading. She glanced down and sighed. The world could never be black and white, it seemed.

She scrolled through medical records, first of Tockman's sister and then, more recently, his. His sister was an invalid and he had been paying for her to have home care for years. Several months ago, he had been diagnosed with a terminal cancer; the robberies had commenced soon after. As Felicity flipped through his medical reports, _something_ seemed off between several of the readings…

"Felicity?" Oliver's voice interrupted her. He was standing over her shoulder, trying to decipher the reports.

"It's nothing, I'll stay here and run some reports—"

"If it's nothing," Oliver interrupted, "Then you can come with me to Sara's party," he grinned at Felicity's but Sara's voice made her flinch.

"You didn't have to throw me a party Ollie," she mock-whined.

"You come back from the dead, you get a party—it's kind of a Queen tradition," Oliver smirked and Felicity felt a sick feeling in her stomach. "You're coming, right?" Oliver looked back at her and she quickly wiped the look off her face.

"Well," she stuttered. "You're mom still hates me—and you and, you and—Sara," she muttered, looking at the two of them. Oliver had assured her that nothing had happened since that night, but Felicity knew that decade long feelings didn't get resolved in a night.

"So you're coming!" Oliver turned, refusing to take no for an answer. She sighed, preparing herself for a night of torture.

* * *

She waited awkwardly in the corner of the Queen mansion, watching Oliver talk easily with people he knew she despised. She wondered if he spent so much time hiding behind a mask if he recognized his own face when it finally slipped.

"Relax, Felicity," John muttered behind her.

"I am," she hissed.

"You know that Oliver will keep his mom at a distance, and I'll keep _him_ at a distance if I have to," he raised an eyebrow, knowing that Felicity would understand his meaning.

"Thanks John," she whispered, unknowingly bringing her thin fingers up to brush her collarbone and letting them rest just over her aching heart.

Her phone vibrated in her clutch and she pulled it out, smiling at the information her search had uncovered. She knew that something had been off in the search. It turns out that Tockman's test results had been mixed up at the lab. She hadn't noticed, but her computers had noticed a two percent discrepancy—the blood types didn't match.

"Ms. Smoak," an achingly familiar voice filled her mind and she looked up to see Oliver's eyes looking down at hers. "May I have this dance?"

Without thinking she allowed Oliver to take her hand and lead her onto the dance floor. Very few couples were dancing, but Oliver didn't seem to mind.

"You look good in green," he smirked, looking down at her forest green dress.

She blushed and quickly changed the subject. "I haven't seen Sara," she muttered, noticing the dark look pass over Oliver's face.

"Yeah," he mumbled gruffly, just as Sara's voice filled the space beside them.

"Can I cut in?" she asked, eyeing Oliver. Felicity thought she smelled distinctly of alcohol. She stepped aside, lowering her eyes so Oliver couldn't read her face. She resumed her position next to Diggle.

"You ok?" he asked. Felicity nodded, appreciating his brotherly concern. She was searching her phone for any information on Tockman's whereabouts when a community gasp rose from those watching the dance floor.

She looked up to see Sara holding Oliver's face securely between her hands, her lips pressed firmly to his. She heard a spectator mumble something about, "Some things never change," and then her vision blurred.

Oliver's eyes were still opened so she could tell that Sara had taken him by surprise. He gently pushed her back and planted a kiss on her forehead. Sara looked at him, willing him with her eyes to make a move. When she saw the hesitation in his eyes, she turned unsteadily on her heels and made her way into one of the many abandoned side rooms.

Oliver's eyes met hers over the heads of the crowd and she wasn't sure what happened next. She stalked after Sara, catching up to her easily in the woman's drunken condition.

"You can't live in the past," Felicity looked at Sara, who was leaning against the wall of the very room that she had confronted Moira in not so long ago.

"And you can't keep living for an assumed future," Sara slurred and Felicity flinched; this time she would not back down.

"You're right," she stated easily. Sara looked up, her large, blue eyes taking a moment to focus on Felicity's face. "Which is why we only have today. You of all people should know that," Felicity muttered. "You keep thinking that you can go back—back before your family knew you were still alive, back before the League, back before the island, back before you left with your sister's boyfriend—tell me, which _part_ do you want to go back to?" Felicity spat at her. She knew that she was being cruel, but she had had enough; some scars went further than skin deep.

"Does it matter?" Sara looked up with a devilish grin.

"Of course it does!" Felicity shouted, using her loud voice.

"Fine!" Sara shouted back. "I want to go back to the point where it _didn't_ matter!" she shrieked. "Where sneaking away on a boat with my sister's boyfriend gave me a high, where helping a deranged psychopath create a super-soldier seemed like an _excellent_ idea, where I killed people and _I didn't feel a thing,_" Sara looked Felicity in the eye, unflinching.

Felicity thought back to Oliver, after every time he came home from a mission. The gleam in his eyes that died a little each time another person's blood ended on his hands. She thought about his confession in his office—when he told her that no one considered the body count that went into being the Hood—even when she and Diggle hadn't thought about the toll, he had.

"You and Oliver, you're nothing alike," Felicity whispered, realization dawning her. "You being with him, it won't save you—his sacrifice won't atone for your sins," Felicity spat at the woman and this time a slight flinch rippled across Sara's face.

"No," Sara, shook her head recovering quickly. "But neither will your goodness pay penitence for _his_ sins—and they're just as great as mine," and with that she made her way out of the room, leaving Felicity suffocating in her anger.

The vibration of her cell phone in her clutch yet again drew her attention. Tockman had been playing with her when he had crashed her servers. Her work area would need re-modeling and it would take time for her to rebuild her IT network to the level it had been functioning at before he had interfered. He had made it personal.

It was a call from an unknown number.

She stuck her head into the ball room to see that Oliver and Diggle were conversing quietly in the corner; no doubt discussing her or Sara or both. So she answered, not wanting them involved quite yet.

"Ms. Smoak," his raspy voice filled her ears. "Checking on my sister? That's a bit low, don't you think?"

"Hacking my system, that's a bit personal, wouldn't you agree?" she asked, mirroring his tone. She had dealt with people like him in college. They wanted attention, not jail time. "You robbed those banks to support your sister after your death," Felicity spoke, before Tockman could continue.

"Why don't you come down to Starling National Bank and we can chat about it?" he suggested. She hesitated. Tockman hadn't resorted to violence, and he hadn't been registered as dangerous by the police. He sensed her hesitation and continued. "Remember, Ms. Smoak, it isn't well to drive men into final corners, at some point they all develop teeth and claws. We all have something to prove, do we not?"

With that he dropped the line, and Felicity snuck down one of the back hallways of the Queen mansion, already planning on how to handle another hacker.


	8. Chapter 8: Fire and Ice

A/N: Hello readers! Thank you so much for the reviews/follows/favorites. Love the love! This chapter is told from Sara's perspective—a glimpse into her dark mind and even darker soul. She's confused. And I think it will somewhat flow with a spoiler photo I saw with Sara standing between Felicity and Clock King for Wednesday's episode. I'm also hoping it will answer some of your questions about Sara's willingness to kill again now that she's joined up with Team Arrow. Last, but _certainly_ not least, a lovely spoiler with two of my favorite mysterious characters….

* * *

Her head rested against the cool glass of the window in Oliver's room. She knew how immature it was to run to the boy's room she was trying to avoid, but she had nowhere else to go. Her head was fuzzy from the amount of alcohol she had consumed in the evening, but her senses were still functioning at a lethal level; no doubt the result of years of learning to survive poisons much worse than liquor.

She saw Felicity's blonde hair cut across the grass a moment later, her head turning every which way as if she were afraid that someone was following her. Sara's head tapped the glass, her stomach turning at how awful she had treated the one person who made her feel like a human being.

Sara tried to understand what had made her kiss Oliver, and if she was being honest with herself, it was a culmination of everything, all at once. Suddenly, everything had been too loud and too close for her to handle it.

"Felici—" Oliver's frantic voice filled the dark room as he threw open the door, obviously disappointed at finding her hiding in his room.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, just south of sounding harsh.

"I—" she tried to explain, but he held up a hand, unwilling to listen.

"Where's Felicity?" he questioned her. "I swear Sara, if you—"

"I don't know," she shrugged, anger coursing through her veins.

"Tockman, she found something out about him and now she's gone," desperation flashed across Oliver's features. Icy fear settled in her chest, quickly dousing the anger.

"I have to go," she muttered, pushing past him. He was talking after her, but she wasn't listening.

She and Felicity couldn't be more different. Felicity was the sun's warm fire whereas Sara lived in the ice of her own heart. Sara knew something of measuring up, though. People pushed you because it made you stronger, until one day, you just broke, wondering how pieces of yourself ended up scattered in the wind.

And that's exactly what Tockman was doing.

And it was exactly what Sara and Oliver had made Felicity feel she needed to do: prove herself.

Sara had never understood Oliver's need to save the world. She could barely save herself, let alone someone else. It was why she had allowed herself Nyssa. Now she raced through the streets of Starling on Oliver's motorcycle, stopping only long enough to change into her customary leather. She pulled up outside of the bank where she assumed Tockman had beckoned Felicity. She climbed the stairs, easily slipping through the side doors.

When she entered, she heard a deep voice coming from the lobby, followed by Felicity's high pitched chatter—if Sara hadn't been so well trained, she wouldn't have picked up on the edge of fear threatening the edges of her rambling.

"You're not dying!" Felicity was trying to reason with him. "The tests, they were _wrong,_" she stressed. "You don't have to do this."

"My future has already been determined, Ms. Smoak," Tockman laughed. "Destiny will leave its mark."

"I can't let you do this," Felicity nearly begged. Sara wanted to smirk; there was no reasoning with a madman. Somehow, though, she wanted to live in a world where Felicity's attempt to reason with this man made sense.

"I never asked for your permission," Tockman muttered, and then Sara heard a small explosion.

"I guess you didn't ask for my invite either," she shouted as she stepped into the lobby. Felicity had successfully ducked behind a teller counter, but Tockman was nowhere to be seen.

She carefully walked around the lobby, looking for any sign of Tockman.

"He's not here," Felicity muttered, typing furiously on the screen of her tablet.

"What?" Sara muttered, turning to look at the woman, disbelief coloring her voice.

"His voice is coming through the intercoms. His hacked the bank—_all_ of the banks—in Starling. He'll drain them all by morning if I don't stop him," her voice trailed off as she concentrated. "I got it!" she shouted, pumping a fist in the air.

"My, my you did," Tockman's voice filled the room, and this time Felicity spun, panic filling her eyes.

"That wasn't through the coms," she whispered. Sara pulled her bow staff out from behind her back.

She stalked around the side of the teller wall to find Tockman emerging from the vault. He wasn't focused on the threatening woman in leather; his eyes were locked on the blonde, still trying to reason with him from the side as he fiddled with a gun.

"There are some things you can't return from," Tockman stated, coming closer to Felicity; she didn't even flinch. The world is slowly growing closer to the end, you know?" he was rambling. "You, Ms. Smoak, are like the sun—even Ms. Lance has recognized it," he glanced at Sara and for a moment she straightened, surprised by the man's accuracy. He continued. "Some say the world will end in fire and from what I've tasted of _your_ desire Ms. Smoak—a love that sacrificial—it could be the world's salvation, or it could very well burn the world to ash. And you, Ms. Lance? Some say the world will end in ice and from what I've tasted of your hate, yes, that's also great, and would suffice," he smirked.

"Think of your sister," Felicity pleaded as he leveled the gun at her.

"We're all dying Ms. Smoak," he whispered. "Some of us are just dying a little bit quicker than others,"

"You're not dying!" Felicity shouted.

"But you are," he stated, aiming right at Felicity.

Everything after that happened so quickly. Sara's training allowed her to process things much quicker than the average human, so she took everything in as they happened, blaming them on instinct.

"You're dying a little bit quicker," Sara shouted, just as Felicity glanced between her and Tockman. Sara wasn't sure what possessed the IT genius, but she rushed the gunman just as Sara threw a knife towards his chest.

Somewhere, in the midst of the chaos, Sara heard Oliver's voice, yelling at Felicity to run away, at Sara to not kill, maybe just at the situation in general.

Felicity used the chaos of the moment to pry the gun from Tockman's grasp. When Oliver lifted her off the ground, a silent gasp left her lips and Sara looked to the woman's side, noticing a small spot of red forming on her blouse.

"You were going to kill him," Felicity's eyes met Sara's, blame evident on her face.

Sara's eyes flashed wildly between Oliver's and Felicity's, barely noticing Diggle and Roy containing Tockman before the police could arrive. Oliver was completely focused on Felicity, who seemed to be refusing his care.

So Sara did what she does best—she slipped away, without anyone noticing.

She ran. She left Oliver's motorcycle and she ran until her lungs hurt. She ran until her cell phone, buzzing against her breastbone, simply couldn't be ignored any longer. She stopped on a roof top, overlooking the foundry so she could see when Oliver and Felicity made it back.

"Nyssa," Sara sighed into the phone, deciding to face all of her demons in one night.

"Sara?" she sounded surprised, and Sara couldn't blame her. "This isn't a personal call I—"

"Ms. Lance?" a deep voice interrupted Nyssa's and Sara looked up to find a man dressed completely in black, wearing a two-toned mask. She hung up, reaching for her bow-staff.

"Who are you?" she asked, circling.

"Oh, once you know, Ms. Lance, you'll never be the same," his words rang familiar in her mind as he slid the mask off to reveal a broken man with a scared hole where his eye should have been. She gasped at the familiar face of Slade Wilson.

"No," she breathed. "You, you—were, dead," she trailed off, realizing the stupidity of her own words.

"That seems to be a relative terms nowadays," he chuckled.

"What do you want Slade?" she spat, adjusting her grip on the staff.

"Well, I came to offer you what you offered me, all those years ago. This is your opportunity to go back, Sara, to be numb, Mirakuru can do that for you," he offered, and for one brief moment, Sara considered it. She thought about the limitless strength it would offer her.

"I can't," she looked him in the eyes, refusing to believe that her life would be darkness forever.

"Then you've left me no choice," he shrugged as he pulled out two large blades. She met them with her staff, but she wasn't prepared to fight a man with super-human strength.

She blocked two more blows before Slade stood over her and Sara wondered curiously if her journey of scars and killing would end the way it had begun—fighting with Slade Wilson. She closed her eyes and tried to remember happier times.

"There are few things that the League of Assassins dislikes more than inhuman super-soldiers," Nyssa's soft voice filled the air and Sara's head swiveled to see her dark head aiming an arrow directly at Slade's face. "Unless you want matching eye patches, I suggest you move along," she suggested.

Slade nicked the side of Sara's face with the blade, but turned, disappearing into the night, tossing a threat over his shoulder: "Give my regards to Oliver Queen."

Nyssa silently walked over, helping Sara off the ground. They stood silently for a moment, neither willing to speak first.

"Nyssa I—"

"I didn't come here for personal reasons," Nyssa interrupted briskly.

"Oh," Sara said simply, wondering why else Sara would be in Starling City.

"Malcolm Merlyn," she stated simply. "He's returned after the Undertaking, looking for his daughter. As you know, my father would like to—speak to him," she finished abruptly. Ra's Al Ghul didn't 'speak' to anyone.

"No," Sara shook her head, arguing. "Oliver killed him during the Undertaking—"

"Apparently, your boyfriend needs to start checking the status of his targets after he puts an arrow through them—or choose a more lethal weapon."

* * *

A/N2: Ok so that ended up being A LOT longer than I thought it would be. I just really wanted to get Felicity's confrontation with Tockman in there (more on that from her POV in the next chapter), Sara's run in with Slade, and then reconnecting with Nyssa and learning about Malcolm's return (as a reminder, it was Ra's al Ghul's name that Moira used to threaten Merlyn with after he threatened to reveal Thea's paternity). With all of that it ended up being a really long chapter! Next chapter will be Felicity POV, learning about Slade (with some Roy love), and some hints about the Suicide Squad!


	9. Chapter 9: Don't Want to Save the World

A/N: Brace yourself! Another long one! Thank you again for the follows/favorites/reviews - each one I get just gives me more motivation and inspiration! Enjoy!

* * *

Felicity sat on the work desk where Oliver usually sharpened his arrows. Now, however, he was methodically stitching the gash in her side caused by Sara's knife throwing capabilities. The tension radiating off of him was nearly palpable and she found this somewhat humorous; the girl who _hated_ sharp objects was having said sharp object repeatedly jammed through her skin and she was more relaxed than Oliver Queen—the Arrow himself. A small giggle escaped her throat at the irony.

"What's so funny?" Oliver asked tersely.

"This is usually the other way around," she smiled and she was glad that her smile relaxed the sharp lines of his face, even if for only a brief moment.

"I would appreciate it if _this_ were a onetime event," he grumbled out, pain filling the corners of his eyes. "You won't feel it now because of the medication, but tomorrow morning? This is going to hurt," he looked at her, trying to communicate wordlessly how desperately afraid he had been at nearly losing her. "What were you thinking?" he whispered, delicately touching her exposed side.

"I'll give you two a moment," Diggle muttered. Felicity's eyes roamed over to where the man had been standing, arms crossed, stoically, guarding her as if he could retroactively protect her.

She shut her eyes, the medication that Oliver had given her clouding her usually crisp thoughts. She remembered Sara kissing Oliver and quickly moved forward, to breaking into the bank, only to find that Tockman had baited her—a game of cat and mouse—where the cat had waited to see if the mouse was worth chasing.

He had wanted a worthy opponent, but he had also wanted to destroy her. He had carefully watched her to pinpoint the exact moment she would be at her weakest and then he set out to exploit that weakness. She was so determined to prove herself to Oliver and Sara that she forgot—at the end of the day, the only person she was accountable to was herself.

And she had won. She had taken Tockman down, even when he had pointed a gun directly at her chest. She had managed to think clearly and rescue herself as well as secure the bank accounts of nearly every Starling City citizen.

She had prevented Sara from killing the man.

"She would have killed him, Oliver," Felicity looked directly at Oliver, refusing to give into the effects of the pain killers, but he averted his gaze.

"I know," he said simply. "And in the process she could have killed you," he looked at her then and Felicity felt that, despite the risks she had taken tonight and the possibilities of failure, she had made the right decision.

"I am sorry that I went off without telling you," she admitted. _That _part of her plan had been reckless and slightly selfish. "We're partners and I—"

"I understand why you felt like you had to do it," Oliver interrupted, shoving himself away from the table and fisting his hands through his hair in frustration. "I haven't been acting like your partner recently—hell, I've barely been acting like your friend. If I'm going to—no, if _we're_ going to do what we do, we have to do it _together._ I couldn't do what you do behind the computer and I don't want you doing what I do out on the streets, which is _why_ we're partners, Felicity."

She stood then, refusing to let him stand alone. She ungracefully walked towards him, trying to shake the effects of the medicine and the already apparent twinge in her side. When she stumbled, he caught her easily, trying to give her space as he righted her; instead she did exactly what she should have done a long time ago—she wrapped her arms lightly around his waist, becoming his anchor, just like he was her strength.

He hesitated and the fear of rejection began to form, tasting like steel in the back of her throat, but seconds later, his hands found their way into her hair, holding her head gently against his chest.

"I hate to interrupt your moment," an unfamiliar voice made Felicity jump back and Oliver was already pushing her behind him and reaching for his bow.

"Relax Oliver, we need to talk," Sara's voice filled the foundry and as if on cue, Roy and Diggle came to stand side-by-side, a human wall next to Oliver.

"Like hell we do," he roared, stalking towards Sara. Felicity had heard that voice used on criminals, but never on one of the Lance sisters, she almost felt bad for Sara, _almost._

"You can fight with me about it later tonight, Ollie," Sara held out her hand, her head bowed in reorganization of his anger. "You have bigger problems," her blue eyes bounced between everyone present and Oliver hesitated, glancing at the woman that Felicity only recognized through her search of A.R.G.U.S.'s database—Nyssa al Ghul.

"I don't make social calls, archer," the woman said, distain in her voice. "An ex-member of the League has resurfaced recently looking for his daughter," she looked pointedly at Oliver and his face visibly paled. Felicity didn't know what was going on so she spared a glance at John, who only looked back at her, equally confused.

"No," Oliver argued weakly. "Merlyn is dead," his comment sounded more like a reassurance to himself than an argument. Felicity moved to step forward, finally piecing the puzzle together, but John grabbed her arm, holding her back with a shake of his head.

"There are places in this world where death is an illusion; you, Oliver Queen, of all people should know that," Nyssa sighed. "He is alive and he wants Thea—"

"Like fucking hell!" Roy, who had been attempting to remain unseen—per Oliver's instruction—roared to life in all of his enraged glory. Faster than humanly possibly, he was across the short space that separated him and Nyssa and he had her by the throat. "What does Malcolm Merlyn have to do with Thea?" he roared.

Oliver and Sara grabbed his other arm, wrenching him away from the assassin, who, to her credit, hadn't lifted a finger to fight back.

"He's her father," Oliver whispered. Felicity looked at him and she hadn't thought it possible, but his face had paled even more.

"No," Roy made a noise that Felicity could only describe as horror. "Does Moira—she has to know—she…" his voice trailed off as he began to pace the floor, his arms clenching and unclenching at his sides.

"She knows," Felicity whispered, looking at Oliver for permission to tell his secrets. "She knows and Roy, she is just as dangerous as Malcolm, if not more so," yet again she looked at Oliver as he closed his eyes.

"You knew?" he looked at her, betrayal evident in his face. "Both of you knew and you let Thea stay there?" he looked between Oliver and Felicity and this time Oliver stepped forward to answer.

"There is no where safer for my sister to be then with me," he commanded, enacting his Arrow voice.

"You're wrong," Roy shook his head. "She could stay with me," and with that he turned and grabbed his coat, walking away.

"You can't save the world, Roy!" Sara shouted after him, looking at Oliver to stop him. Oliver only shook his head.

"You're right," Roy stopped, turning back and looking at directly Oliver. "But I don't want to save the world; I just want to save Thea," and with that he disappeared into the night.

"What is his plan?" Oliver turned back to Nyssa, desperation in his voice.

"You have time; Malcolm is a patient man—he waited years to destroy the Glades," she pointed out. "My father would like to be the one to take him down though," she stated looking at Oliver with a look that only an assassin could give.

Felicity flinched. She knew Oliver was torn—he didn't kill, not anymore—yet he had made exceptions for those he cared for. He had killed the Count for her and she didn't doubt that if Ra's al Ghul wanted to kill Merlyn, he would consider it if it would save Thea.

"No," he answered sternly. "We. Don't. Kill." He looked at Sara firmly.

"I didn't ask you to," Nyssa smiled, bitter sweet. "I just asked you to stay out of the way," she threatened.

"We have bigger problems Ollie," Sara interrupted before Nyssa and Oliver could come to blows. "Slade Wilson is alive, he's back in Starling, and he wanted me to give you his regards," she pointed at the nasty cut across her cheek and Felicity flinched, her hand moving to the gash on her side.

"What?" Oliver growled out, taking his turn to pace the floor.

"It makes sense, Ollie!" Sara shouted back. "How else would Mirakuru end up in Starling City? It runs in his blood!" Oliver flinched.

"I saw him as well, archer," Nyssa stated, confirming Sara's story. "There have been legends around the League of a man in a mask with strength and speed beyond that of a human. They say he was born in hell the way we were bred in darkness," the way Nyssa spoke of such horrors sent chills over Felicity's skin; she watched Oliver carefully, knowing that one man could only take so much.

"He was dead—my best friend on that god forsaken island, I killed himself," Oliver mumbled.

"Perhaps you should reconsider your no-killing pact," Nyssa suggested with a shrug. Oliver sent a look that quickly shut her down. "I will be in town for two weeks; send Sara with word if you agree to work with the League on Merlyn," she nodded as she left.

"Oliver, we need to talk about—" Sara started, but Oliver quickly held up his hand, interrupting her.

"Not tonight," he stated. "If I talk to you tonight, I will not be responsible for my actions, Sara," he looked at her and Felicity expected to see pain, heartbreak, or loss in his eyes, but all she saw was disappointment.

Sara nodded, quietly exiting the foundry after Nyssa.

"I'm taking you home," Oliver looked at Felicity, his voice not giving her the option to argue. He looked at Diggle who only nodded and whispered something in his ear. The man left and soon her breathing was the only sound in the room.

"Oliver, I can drive myself home," she tried to reason.

He only shook his head, guiding her towards his car. They rode in silence and she thought that despite her tendency to ramble and all of the terrible events that had transpired tonight, it was comfortable.

He walked her towards her door and made sure she was comfortable before he spoke.

"Can I come back tonight?" he asked cautiously.

She looked at him carefully before nodding, not trusting herself to speak. For one brief moment she wondered where he was going, but then she tried to convince herself it wasn't her business.

"I need to check on Roy and Thea," he answered her silent thought. "Then I want to come back here and just make sure that you are ok," he breathed. "I need to know that you're ok."

"Oliver, I should be asking you that," she sighed.

"Roy's right," Oliver stated, shaking his head. She wondered _why_ Roy had been right, but Oliver continued before she could ask. "If something ever happened to Thea, he would burn the world to ash just so he could dig her from the rubble," he murmured as he turned to walk out the door. "I'll be back tonight, but don't wait up; I'll sleep on the couch," Oliver explained turning back once before the door shut behind him.

She nodded numbly, wondering if this was real or it was only a drug induced hallucination. She tried to struggle through the fog in her brain, attempting to recall Roy's words—any words that Oliver might have agreed with.

_I don't want to save the world; I just want to save her….._

* * *

A/N2: Next chapter will be Oliver's POV dealing with his confrontation with Sara. It's time they put some things to rest and he's slowly starting to figure some things out for himself. Also, his reaction to two potentially devastating enemies being back in town! Thanks again!


	10. Chapter 10: Heap of Ashes

A/N: Sorry it's been a few days! Fortunately, I have another long chapter which will helpfully make up for it. I also plan on updating my story, "The Descent to Hell" within the next 24 hours as well for those of you who follow that. Happy reading and thanks for all of the support! Enjoy!

* * *

Oliver leaned against Felicity's door, willing himself to walk away and finish what needed to be done so he could get back to where he wanted to be. He took several steps forward, fighting the weight that was pulling him back to Felicity's apartment.

He pulled his car away from the curb and sped through town, towards Roy's house in the Glades. He tried to ignore the ruins of the town that still remained, months after the Undertaking; he tried to pretend that it didn't put a bitter taste in his mouth that he actually believed his mother when she said she had been innocent.

Several quick steps landed him at the front door and he hesitated briefly, wondering if this was a good idea. He knew that he needed to talk to the kid. Roy and Thea were proof that the world lived in the creased folds between black and white.

Quick raps against the door brought Roy out, bare chested and slightly glaring against the bright street lights.

"What the hell?" he growled out, glaring at Oliver. Oliver was about to make a comment about needing beauty sleep until he noticed a smear of red lipstick across Roy's cheek.

"I could ask you the same thing," he muttered, pointing to the kid's cheek. Roy must have an idea of what he was getting at, because he quickly wiped it away and stepped outside, shutting the door.

"Is something going on?" he asked, looking around, automatically scanning the area. Oliver gave the kid credit—he learned quick.

"No," Oliver said easily, shaking his head. "You can't tell Thea," he reiterated.

"Yeah, I know this," Roy rolled his eyes. "Or you'll put an arrow through me again, I got the point the first time," he muttered, exasperated.

"No, you can't tell her about Moira or Malcolm or any of it," Oliver continued.

"I know," Roy looked at Oliver and Oliver realized that Roy understood the severity of the situation. At some point, both Thea and this kid that she called her boyfriend had grown up, and Oliver hadn't realized it.

"I know you want to protect her, but the best way to do that is—"

"Oliver?" Thea's voice interrupted his explanation, and he turned to see his sister, buttoning her blouse. He ignored the panging protective instinct that arose seeing his sister exit in such a manner and instead raised an eyebrow at Roy.

"Thea," he stated in greeting. "I was actually just looking for you," he stated using his overly happy voice.

"Really?" she muttered sarcastically. "Then why are you out here talking to Roy?" she raised an eyebrow, expecting an answer.

"We've been hanging out," Roy interceded.

"What?" Oliver and Thea asked simultaneously.

"You know?" Roy gave Oliver a look and suddenly Oliver understood—he was looking for an alibi—"We met up at the club one night and Oliver made an effort to get to know me," Roy muttered, the lie sounding unbelievable as Thea raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow.

"Oh really?" she questioned, looking between the two men. "Well, Ollie," she glanced at Oliver, a smirk on her face. "Roy here just asked me to move in with him," she smiled her innocent, Thea Queen brat smile.

Oliver spared a rapid fire glance at Roy who visibly shrunk; he might be super-human, but he had yet to best Oliver in a fight. Oliver called on years of stoicism as he looked calmly between Thea and Roy before answering.

"He's a good guy, Speedy," he looked at Roy and Oliver realized that he meant it. Despite the shit hand that the once-street rat had been dealt, he had managed to do better than his circumstances. Thea's mouth visibly fell at Oliver's words as he continued. "If it's something you think you're ready for and it feels right to you…" his voice trailed off as he shrugged his shoulders, enjoying the pair's shocked expressions.

"Fine," Thea muttered, recovering quickly. "But if your younger sister moves out, then you need to, too. You're nearly middle aged Ollie, you're the CEO of a successful company, you have a majority share in Verdant, and you still live at home!" she pointed out as she threw her hands up in the air in exasperation.

It was now his turn to look at his sister, completely shocked. He knew that she had noticed the tension in the house, but there was no way for Thea to guess the severity. He had quickly determined that living with Roy would be a safer alternative than living with Moira; however, he wasn't prepared for his sister to push _his_ hand.

"I am _not_ nearly middle aged," he muttered, avoiding the subject.

"Oh come on Ollie, grow up," Thea rolled her eyes. "I'll move out when you do!" her lips curved with the challenge.

"Fine!" he surrendered. He didn't really want to live in the Queen mansion and there really was no reason to remain if he wasn't watching out for Thea. Unfortunately, it was just another thing to deal with on top of dealing with an assassin and once-friend back for revenge.

"Ha!" she twirled in triumph, kissing Roy on the lips. "We'll go apartment hunting this weekend," she suggested, running a finger down his bare chest; Oliver nearly vomited. "Now, get rid of him and come back inside," she whispered, conspiratorially as she shut the door.

"She had already agreed before you showed up," Roy looked at Oliver with a smirk on his face and Oliver rolled his eyes.

"There's no reason for me to stay if she's not there. Take care of her," he glared at Roy, hating to entrust his sister with anyone else.

"She's my life," he said simply, shrugging. "We need to talk though; you can't expect me to take care of her if—"

"Not tonight," Oliver shook his head slightly as Thea's head peeked through the window. "We can talk later. There's more to this than you'll ever want to know," Oliver mumbled softly, knowing Roy would hear.

"Doesn't mean I don't need to hear it," he looked at Oliver pointedly.

Oliver nodded, agreeing as he turned to walk away. Dark movement caught his eye as he got in his car. He would have been concerned, what with Slade and Malcolm both being back in Starling, but the blonde hair shining in the moonlight gave the intruder away. He pulled into an ally and shut off his car, stepping out in the open as Sara easily made her way from the roof tops.

"We need to talk," she spoke crisply.

"I thought I told you—not tonight," he bit back. He couldn't look at Sara and not see Felicity's pale face after shoving Tockman out of the path of Sara's knife.

"I came to apologize," she stated, lowering her head in a manner that he recognized as the behavior of a League member if they had committed a grievance against their leader.

"God, Sara," he muttered, rubbing his hands down his face. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"I thought when I came back, things would just fall back in place, you know? Surely you get that?" she looking at him, her eyes searching his.

"You think that—what? When I came home, everything went back to normal?" he nearly shouted. "That I wasn't atoning for everything that my father had done, God, that _I_ had done on the god-forsaken island? That my life just picked up where it left off five years before? Do I seem like the same Ollie to you?" he questioned her harshly, almost afraid of the answer—he didn't _want_ to be the same person he had been before the island.

"No," she murmured, shaking her head. "That's it, you're not Ollie at all," she looked at him seriously. "But I don't, I just—I don't understand," she finally settled on confusion.

"Understand what?" he asked.

"When you came back, your family was ecstatic to see you and despite everything with your mother, Oliver, she would have done anything to get you back—"

"She was the whole reason I was there!" he shouted, flinching at the grudge that still remained in his voice.

"And Laurel, despite what you had done to her—to her love, her trust—she took you back even after she had been with Tommy—"

"Sara, stop," Oliver threatened, stepping closer. Sara was venturing into territory that she knew nothing about, but she didn't recognize the warning in Oliver's voice as she continued.

"Laurel won't even look at me Oliver," Sara stated, accusation in her tone. "She acts like I am the only guilty party in the breaking of her heart. Tommy welcomed you back, both as Ollie and as the Arrow. Sometimes I wonder why it was so easy for you," she muttered and he exploded.

"Easy for me!?" he shouted. "You thought that coming home was _easy?_ My family didn't know how to act around me, Sara, and to top it off, I live a lie around them—God, I hate my mother right now because of her lies and I'm _just as bad._ Laurel hated me at first and then after Tommy died, she hated me again—hell, probably hates me still. Tommy had to _die_ for me to find my purpose here, Sara, so what's it going to take for you to finally realize you are home—because let me tell you, there's a big difference between _coming_ home and _being_ home!" he finished, panting as the anger flooded his veins.

"So is it terrible to want to go back!" she yelled, but Oliver realized it wasn't a question—she really thought she could.

"You can't Sara, and I wouldn't if I could," he shook his head, the bonds that had held him to this woman slowly releasing. She must have felt it too, because she let out a soft whimper.

"Don't leave me Oliver," she whispered.

"I would never leave you, Sara, but you're walking away and I can't let you take me down with you," he stated, seriously. He would never walk away from her if she wanted his help, but he had learned that some people didn't want saving. "You need to decide: move forward, or move on," he looked at her sternly and when she didn't answer he took one small step forward and pulled her towards him. He inhaled her scent—leather and regrets—and kissed her softly on the forehead. "If you ever change your mind," he murmured the promise against her skin; they could never go back, but they could always move forward.

Minutes later he was standing over the sleeping form of Felicity Smoak, who had fallen asleep fully dressed on the couch, and the weight that had been building on his shoulders since he realized that Felicity had gone to the bank alone slowly lifted.

He thought about Malcolm coming for Thea. Oliver would never let the man near her. Thea was finally living a life that she enjoyed—a life she had control over. He wouldn't let anyone take that from her.

He thought about Slade coming for him. Oliver knew the man would use anyone in Oliver's life as leverage. For a brief moment, Oliver considered running. It would protect the people he cared about the most. It would move the inevitable battle away from his home. Then he recalled his conversation with Sara. He _wasn't_ the Ollie he had been and although the old Ollie would have run, he planned to stay _exactly_ where he was.

"I wish you to know with what a sudden mastery you kindled me, heap of ashes that I am, into fire," he whispered softly as he gently lifted her from the couch and carried her to her bed.


	11. Chapter 11: The Mark of Kisses

A/N: Ok, so thanks to Devaue Fawkes, we are getting some of Felicity's back story with this chapter. I had a nice little idea of how I wanted everything to play out, then I was sitting in a corporate finance class one day, BORED OUT OF MY MIND, and this new idea took hold and I couldn't let it go. Some of the pieces aren't completely original and I seriously doubt it ends the way I imagine my story now ending in the show, but hey, that's why this is fanfiction, right? So, yes, I did change the direction of the story from where I thought it was originally headed, but I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Felicity sat up, reaching blindly for her glasses until she felt a sharp pull across her side. It solicited a quick gasp before she could stop herself. Without thinking, she gingerly removed her shirt, looking at the stitches down her side. There were less than fifteen stitches, the knife had only grazed her side, but it was slightly bruised and some blood was crusted around the wound.

She opened her bedroom door and made her way to her kitchen where she kept her first aid supplies. She started opening gauze and disinfectant wipes, humming to distract herself from the slight pain and the smell of the antibacterial spray.

When large hands covered hers she did the only rational thing a girl would do—when the girl assumed she had been _alone_ in her _locked_ apartment early in the morning—she twirled and called upon years of bad romance movies as she raised her knee into the intruder's groin.

"Felicity—" Oliver grunted out as he bent over, his breathing labored.

"Oh my god! Oliver!" Felicity shouted, not sure if she should be upset or pleased that Oliver Queen was in her apartment checking up on her after his ex-whatever-she-was launched a lethal weapon at her. He looked up at her and his eyes darkened and _that_ was the moment she realized she didn't have a shirt on and, although a bra was similar to a bikini, she still felt naked.

"Felicity," he choked out again, trying to stand a little straighter. He looked at her and winced and she took the opportunity to ramble.

"Oliver! Why are you here? And I just—oh my—I just, uh—shouldn't you be more reactive to people attacking you or something? Or at least be wearing a cup? I mean you're the Arrow—people could attack you at any moment and _you're in my apartment—" _she emphasized, looking at him pointedly as he tried to focus his gaze on her face.

"Please go put a shirt on," he muttered as he nearly crawled towards the couch.

She looked at him for a moment, but then returned to her room and grabbed her favorite MIT zip up hoodie. It was easy to put on and bulky enough to hide the blush creeping up her chest.

"What are you doing here," she asked cautiously as she looked him over. He seemed to be doing better, his face returning to its normal color and he even gave her a small smile, so she assumed she was forgiven.

"I told you last night I would be coming back," his eyebrows scrunched together and she recalled wondering where he had gone.

"Oh," she said lamely, fidgeting with a thread on a blanket behind her couch. Most of the time, her brain was an endless stream of thoughts, around Oliver it was usually worse, _except_ when he was looking at her the way he was looking at her right now.

"Felicity," he breathed, moving forward slightly.

"That's the third time you've said my name this morning," she stated matter-of-factly. "And yet you really haven't said anything," she looked at him, half willing him to say anything to break the deafening silence in her head and half wishing he would just let sleeping dogs lie.

"How could you possibly believe that I would leave you?" he looked at her pinning her with his gaze, and she recalled all of those million of moments ago when she had told him of his mother, of Thea. She considered everything that had happened since. Malcolm had come back and she knew that he would fight for Thea—fight Oliver for Thea. This Slade character, she didn't know a lot about him, but she knew enough about revenge. There was a saying that when one started a journey of vengeance, dig two graves—yes it would turn out bad for Slade, she had no doubt, but there was no way it would turn out _good_ for Oliver. She could tell that night that he spoke of killing the man—the first time—that he cared for Slade, and Oliver was not the type of man to lose that connection easily.

"You can't promise that, Oliver," she stared right back, unwilling to back down.

"And yet you're the one sitting here wounded," he muttered, brushing his hand over her side. She shuffled away from him, still not sure why he was here. She trust Oliver unashamedly with her life; her heart was another matter, it has been crushed too often by too many.

"Oliver," she sighed, when he moved to interrupt she held up a finger, continuing. "Believe it or not, I'm familiar with people who think they can save the world. Trust me, they never win," she raised an eyebrow, daring him to challenge her. Instead, he questioned her, and that derailed her.

"What happened to your father?" he looked at her with his gray eyes and she froze. No one had asked her that question; no one had ever _known_ enough to ask. For a moment she considered not sharing. How unfair was it for him to ask this of her when he was so secretive with his own past? Then she considered that perhaps, if she opened up, he would too.

"He wasn't a good man," she started. That was the most crucial part. It had taken nearly a decade to realize that—when you're a little girl, you're father is always a super hero. It wasn't until she was older that she decided otherwise. "To understand my father, you have to know my mother," she started. "She is—well, my mother," she reiterated her earlier sentiment. "She is one of the most kind and caring women—mothers—anyone could ask for," Felicity's voice broke as she thought about her mother. "But she's—delicate," she finished flatly.

"She's ill?" Oliver questioned, concern obvious in his voice.

"No, not ill," Felicity shook her head. "She's just a little scatterbrained after my brother—I had, he uh—I had a brother who died," she finished.

Anyone else would have apologized, but Oliver only took her hand, lightly tracing her knuckles, waiting for her to continue, and she was grateful.

"After his death, my father went a little mad," she explained. "I was so young that I don't really remember," she shut her eyes, remembering the fight that finally drove him away. "He had shouted that he would save us all and after that, I never saw him again," she sighed as Oliver's fingers stilled over hers.

"He just walked out on you," Oliver hadn't asked a question, it was a statement.

"That was what I had thought my whole life," she explained, looking at Oliver. "But then once I got into MIT I decided it was time to do some digging for myself. My mother never talked about him and I was curious—typical daddy issues," she shrugged, looking away and his grip only tightened around her hand. "His research papers—he was consumed with death, or avoiding it, I guess I should say. A month before he had left us, he had been fired from the university he had taught at—I guess it explains why my mother moved us here and took back her maiden name," she shrugged again, refusing to let old wounds reopen.

"It's just part of moving forward," he stated, pulling her closer. She thought that she caught the look of something in his eyes, but she let it go. She snuggled into his chest, giving into the moment. She took a deep breath, but winced as it pulled at her side.

"I should let you get cleaned up," he muttered into her hair. "I told Thea and Roy I would help them house hunt this weekend," he stated. Although she couldn't see his face, she could _sense_ his eye roll.

"They're moving in together?"

"Hmph," he grumbled and it vibrated deep in his chest as he sat her upright. "I told her I would move out as well; apparently she thinks I'm not acting like an adult," she glanced up and his lips pouted out as he obviously recalled the conversation and despite the pain it caused, Felicity laughed.

"She has a point," she smirked. "Where are you looking?"

"I honestly think I'll just set up a place at the foundry; I spend most of my time at there anyway," he grumbled, grabbing his things.

Then Felicity Megan Smoak did something that even her rambling genius brain couldn't account for:

"You could stay here," her eyes grew as the words left her mouth and immediately Oliver's eyes met hers. "I mean, not like, move in with me, _move in with me_ kind of thing, but I think that—" she followed him, mentally kicking herself, towards the door. "You know, I have a kitchen, although the foundry has a fully stocked wine cellar, so I might offer to trade you _especially_ right now—"

"Felicity," Oliver stepped closer to her, close enough that she considered him to be invading her personal space, and placed a calloused finger over her moving lips. He stepped closer still, until the backs of her legs bumped the side table by the door.

"Oliver," she stuttered out, trying _exceptionally_ hard not to focus on his lips. He took another step closer and placed one hand on either side of her hips, trapping her. The sound of a picture frame crashing on the table vaguely registered in her mind, but only slightly. Oliver reached to straighten it, and then he was straightening, his face guarded.

"Are those your parents?" he asked, obviously trying to sound conversational. Felicity tried to steady her breathing and answered.

"Yes," she stated, embarrassed by her labored breaths. "On their wedding day. Why? Oliver is something—"

"I need to go," he interrupted, brushing past her and planting a chaste kiss on her forehead as he went. "I don't want to be late with Thea; she's already upset with the tension between Moira and me…" he voice trailed off as he glanced back and Felicity tried to place the look on his face. She had seen Oliver Queen with many masks, but this one was new—and it scared her that it was in place specifically for her.

"Ok," she sighed, as he saw himself out of her apartment. As soon as the door closed, she slid down the wall, trying to figure out what exactly had happened. She had revealed too much, obviously. She had done _something_. Physical scars, like the ones Oliver wore, were easy to handle because they could be seen and dealt with; hers were deeper and much harder to place.

Why is it that people so often remember the abuse and so rarely the fondness of love? Because the mark of kisses fade; wounds, however, leave scars.

* * *

Oliver nearly sprinted from Felicity's apartment; he ran until his lungs might burst. He sat in his car, in her parking lot, and he thought about his confrontation with Sara. He had told her that she couldn't go back—that there was no returning to life before the island, before the shipwreck.

Then why the hell did life on the island keep inserting itself into a life he was desperately trying to move forward with?

He dialed Sara's number, knowing she would answer and hating himself that she was the one he had to talk to about his.

"Oliver, I'm glad you called. We—"

"Save it," he interrupted. "I know we need to talk," he sighed, knowing he shouldn't be quite so harsh on her; he had taken time to adjust as well. "But right now—" his voice broke and he could hear Sara gathering her things.

"What is it Oliver?" she questioned, ready for a fight.

"This isn't something we can fight," he stated.

"Then tell me what to do," Sara was too much like him—a fixer—when something was broken, wrong, or out of order, they mended it, made it better; Felicity was the one who accepted circumstances and adjusted accordingly.

"It's Felicity," he sighed. "Anthony Ivo was her father."

* * *

A/N2: Cliffhanger! Next chapter will be Oliver dealing with this realization and his conversation with Felicity. She already realized he was a bit of a mad scientist, but I think it's time she hears a bit of Oliver's past, since she shared hers - fair's fair and such! Please let me know what you think and thanks for all of the support!


	12. Chapter 12: Wrongs to Right

Slade sat in his Starling City high rise, considering the distance he had come from Australian soldier to American businessman. From his office he could just make out the lights of Queen Consolidated and just beyond that the edges of the Glades where Oliver Queen spent his nights. The kid had taught him that much—there was no better place to hide than in plain sight.

Everything that had gone wrong in his life, everything that he had lost, Oliver Queen had played the central role. He had warned Oliver, long ago, that caring for people—loving people—was a distraction. He thought about Thea Queen, Roy Harper, Sara Lance, Felicity Smoak, and John Diggle. They would all pay for Oliver's sins, and his sins were great.

* * *

Oliver sat in his car, still unable to leave Felicity's parking lot. He heard Sara's steady voice trying to bring him out of his shock, but he couldn't focus.

"At least he's dead Oliver," she tried to console him. "He isn't going to come back; there's no reason Felicity has to know that things that he had done," Sara finished, a slight tremor in her voice. She knew better than even Oliver the horrors that the man was capable of.

"She still deserves to know," Oliver sighed. Felicity had been brave enough to tell him about his mother—about Thea—the least he could do was tell her the truth about her father.

"I know," Sara stated easily. "I'm almost there," her answer surprised him and his defenses immediately shot to high; he still hadn't forgiven her for the scene at her welcome home party or for knowing where Felicity was and not telling him.

"I don't think that's a good idea Sara," his voice was steel and he could almost imagine her flinching.

"Too late," she muttered as someone tapped on his window; he looked up to see her standing above him, waiting for him to exit. "Hi," she said weakly, hanging up the phone. "No one knows what Ivo was doing better than I do—and I owe you both an apology. I want to keep a place in your life Ollie and in hers, honestly. I'm starting to see now that you two are kind of a package deal," she smirked at him, but turned, leading the way back to Felicity's apartment, before he could squeak out an answer.

He walked back to Felicity as if to an executioner. _This is how she must have felt all week, waiting for the right time to tell me my mother was a cheating, lying murderer,_ he thought. Somehow, he thought that something like this might have evened the playing field between them, but now he only wished that neither of them lived in a world such as this.

Sara was the one who finally knocked on Felicity's apartment door, glancing back at Oliver. For a moment, Oliver wondered what she saw on his face.

He heard Felicity scrambling on the other side of the door and then she stood before him. It took every bit of strength he possessed not to finish what he had started earlier. When she glanced at Sara, her eyes narrowed slightly, but she gestured for them to enter.

"Felicity we need—"

"I need to apologize," Sara interrupted, looking between them both. "I quite possibly ruined the future because I was so focused on reinventing the past. I quite possibly ruined a friendship with a woman who is stronger than anyone I have ever met," she glanced at Felicity and Oliver noticed her small nod. Felicity wasn't one to hold a grudge, but she appreciated an apology when one was due. "And Oliver, I'm so sorry that after everything we've been through, everything you've done for me," her voice broke and he held a hand up, telling her it was ok and he understood. He glanced at Sara; they needed to be here for Felicity, not each other.

"Felicity, do you remember how difficult it was for you to tell me about my mother?" he looked at her and he felt the fear that surely had seeped into her bones—the fear of losing someone who had become central to your way of life.

"Oliver, I'm sorry about your mother, about your family," her voice broke and he saw fear in her eyes. No doubt she attributed his earlier behavior to what he was now mentioning. It was time to remove any doubt she possessed, unfortunately, it was only going to hurt her in the process.

"This isn't about my family," he murmured, stepping closer, mirroring her words from that day at his mother's campaign rally. "It's about yours," he looked into her eyes, watching the confusion and then her sideways glance at the photograph on the side table.

"Oliver, I don't understand," she looked at him, backing away. "You don't know my family unless—oh my god, my mother," she grabbed her cell phone out of her pocket, glancing at the screen. "Did something happen to my mother?" she looked at Oliver, panic rising in her eyes. Oliver felt guilt and dread rise in his gut, but he took a step towards her and squelched it.

"It's your father," he murmured, taking her elbow and leading her towards the couch. She ripped her elbow from his grasp and snapped at him.

"Oliver, do you really think I'm so weak? Tell me what the hell is going on? Why are you both here to talk to me about a man who disappeared from my life years ago? So Oliver," he reached for her arm again, but she backed away, standing straight and tall and it was then he realized that this woman was not the same woman who cried after witnessing a man die on her computer monitors. "Oliver, tell me what is going on."

"Your father was on the island," Sara stated as if she were discussing the weather. Oliver looked at her, eyes wild, then he realized what she was doing. She was saying the words he couldn't say.

"What? What _was_ that place? Some sort of tropical resort?" Felicity's voice rose and Oliver glanced at her, wondering how much one person could take.

"No," Sara looked at her harshly. "The Mirakuru that has been going around the city, that _Slade_ brought to the city_, _your father was looking for. He found it on the island," Sara explained.

"He was trying to save my mother," Felicity finished. Oliver always knew that Felicity had an uncanny ability to take things in stride and coupled with her intellect, she could be an unstoppable force.

"He saved my life," Sara murmured. At this, both Oliver and Felicity met Sara's storm blue eyes. "He saved my life _because of you._ When he pulled me from the ocean, he kept me alive, kept me safe, because I looked like his blonde haired, blue eyed daughter that he left behind," Sara finished, looking up at Felicity under her lashes. "I never knew that Anthony Ivo was your father, Felicity, I swear."

"He would have never told you," Felicity muttered. "Is this true?" Felicity's eyes looked to Oliver's.

"It is," he looked back at her solidly. They had promised each other—no more lies. "Ivo, Slade, the Mirakuru—it's all connected," Oliver tried to explain without really explaining.

"Is my father—is he still…" she looked at Oliver and he knew what she was asking.

"No," he shook his head. He knew she wanted to know more, but now wasn't the time.

"I'm going to let you two…talk things out," Sara murmured, seeing herself out. Oliver looked at Felicity and suddenly everything seemed really warmed.

"Slade Wilson killed him," Oliver whispered, stepping closer.

"That's good," Felicity stated, but Oliver noticed she was shaking slightly. "No one should be able to re-invent a serum like that and—and, my father—Ivo, he—"

"Slade killed him out of revenge," Oliver continued to explain, continued to step closer. "Shado was the woman that Slade loved. Ivo," Oliver made sure not to say 'your father' because he refused to associate the evil of Anthony Ivo with the goodness of Felicity Smoak. "Ivo, he made me choose—" his voice broke, pain still raw at the memory. "He made me choose between Sara and Shado. Slade killed Ivo for killing Shado and now he is here to destroy me," Oliver looked at her. He held a warning in his eyes, but his arms wrapped around her slim waist.

"Then we fight," she mumbled into his chest, her arms finding their way around him and he couldn't help but think it felt like coming home.

"This isn't a fight I want you involved in," he tried to sound convincing, but he knew she was adamant about her life and her decisions.

"Oliver," her voice warned. "I think I'm already involved. My father killed the woman he loved. My father was the one who made you choose. My father is the reason Slade even knew about the Mirakuru. You think that this is your wrong to right, but it is every bit as much mine as yours," she looked up at him and he knew she wouldn't back down.

"I guess that means we fight together," he murmured, hesitantly planting a kiss on her forehead.


	13. Chapter 13: Et tu Brute

A/N: Wow, it feels like forever since I have updated and I am so sorry... These last few weeks have been madness and if I would have written in the mood that I was in... Let's just say that most of the characters probably wouldn't have made it. BUT back on track now and things should start progressing quicker. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! Thanks for the support and for sticking with me! Expect another update within 24 hours :)

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Felicity stood before her full length mirror, contemplating the irony of the dress that her mother had purchased so long ago for some function that, now, Felicity couldn't even recall attending. She twisted slowly in the poor light of her room, watching the forest green dress cast a glow against her pale skin and for one moment she almost forgot all of the craziness that was the last few days.

Nyssa had come to warn Oliver that Malcolm had returned for Thea. Slade had attacked Sara, making a rather dramatic come back from the dead. Then, there was Oliver, telling her that her _father_, of all people, was the one who had sought out the Mirakuru.

For a brief moment she ran her fingers over the material of the dress and thought about sending a photo to her mother, or better yet, picking up the phone and calling her. Jessica Smoak had always been delicate and when she lost a son—and indirectly her husband from the same incident—she spent several months institutionalized. It wasn't until the spontaneous calls from Felicity's father stopped completely—and the correct dosage of anti-depressants—that she was fully able to recover and move on; by that point, Felicity was starting college.

A knock at the door pulled her from her dangerous thoughts and the butterflies assaulting her stomach made her walk less gracefully than normal towards the front of her apartment. She had removed the photo that had caused such the reaction from Oliver, but she glanced in that direction out of habit regardless.

"Oliver, I was just getting ready to come—"

"Hello Ms. Smoak," a deep voice brought her up short and she looked up into the face of a well-muscled man that she only could deduce was Slade Wilson from the eye patch he wore over his right eye. He was dressed in an expensive looking suit with a green tie that matched perfectly with the dress that she wore. Every fiber of her being told her to run, to scream, to do _something,_ but she froze, completely paralyzed by this man from Oliver's past.

"Slade Wilson," she said simply, trying to imitate Oliver's serious voice.

"You know who I am," he raised an eyebrow, but Felicity knew from the tone of his voice that he wasn't asking a question. He took her by the elbow and led her towards the elevator. His grip was just shy of painful and she had no choice but to follow.

"Where is Oliver?" she tried to sound braver than she felt, but her phone and tablet were in her apartment and she had no way to use either of them to page for help.

"Oh, he's at his mother's campaign function," Slade looked down at her, as if this was obvious. "I'm sure he sent you a message about getting a little held up, that he had sent John Diggle to retrieve you, and that he would meet you there; however, seeing that we're going to the same place, well…" his voice trailed off and Felicity felt the goose bumps on her arms rise to alarming levels. "Well, I'm always the gentleman," he looked back up as the door to the elevator opened and he led Felicity towards a black Bentley.

She remained silent, watching the direction of Wilson's driver in case she needed to tell someone or find her way back, but Slade wasn't lying—they were going to the Queen mansion. Moira had planned a campaign dinner and fundraiser for the evening and Oliver had invited Felicity after he told her about her father. The thought of her father made her eyes slide to Wilson, but she kept silent.

When they pulled up to the mansion, she waited for Slade to open her door and lead her into the entry way. Moira greeted Slade enthusiastically and Felicity gleaned information as she stood dutifully beside Slade, Moira refusing to recognize her.

"Thank you for your most generous contribution to my campaign Mr. Wilson," Moira shook his hand and he kissed her liberally on both cheeks. Felicity's eyes searched wildly for Oliver, but she kept her ears trained on her companion's conversation.

"Think nothing of it," he assured her. "This town needs someone like you," he looked at her slyly and Felicity couldn't help but wonder if Slade really knew the true meaning behind his words.

Moira's cold stare met hers, but Felicity refused to acknowledge her, still looking for Oliver. Slade led her further into the house, towards the large ballroom and Felicity couldn't even manage to make a snarky comment. _Where was Oliver?_

Then her eyes met his. She could feel her face relax, the stress leave the lines around her eyes and creases of her forehead. Her heart rate immediately slowed to healthier levels and the breath that she hadn't realized she had been holding finally left her lips.

At that exact same moment, Oliver's face froze. His eyes went wide with what Felicity could only assume was raw terror. All of the blood drained from his features and within moments he was approaching her, his fists clenching and unclenching and his gaze focused on the lethal man standing at her side.

"Mr. Queen," Slade's cool voice halted Oliver in his tracks. Oliver had a role to play and if anything, he knew about maintaining appearances.

"Mr. Wilson," he answered, equally cool. "I need to _borrow_ Ms. Smoak, for just one moment," Oliver's voice came out nearly strangled and Felicity could see that he was losing control. She took a step forward to place her hand on his arm, but suddenly a vice-like grip was at her elbow.

"Of course," he murmured. "Unfortunately, since she came with me, I only see it right that I escort her throughout the evening," he looked at Oliver, a challenge in his eyes. Felicity held her breath, unsure on how Oliver would react. His emotional mask slipped into place and he turned, leading them towards an abandoned side room.

"What the hell are you doing here," Oliver spun, pinning Slade with a glare, grunting out in a harsh whisper. Slade released Felicity and before she knew what had happened, Oliver had spun her behind him, shielding her partly with his body.

"I am going to take everything away from you—everything that caused this," he gestured towards himself "you will pay the price," Slade took a step towards Oliver. "You made your choice the moment you convinced Sara to use the Mirakuru, the moment that _you_ gave it to me, the moment that _you_ chose Sara over Shado," Slade was panting, the veins in his neck bulging. He took a deep breath and whispered the epithet of a pained man. "The moment that Anthony Ivo fired a bullet into the head of the woman I loved," Slade looked down and Felicity was grateful because in that moment she couldn't conceal the shock that crossed her features.

"Slade this is with me, not Felicity, not my family, and not Sara," Oliver added. He took a step forward, but Felicity reached out, grasping the bottom of his suit jacket in a silent plea. "Don't," he warned, and Felicity didn't know who he was talking to.

"You will watch everyone—everything—you love be taken from you and you will know that there is _nothing_ you can do about it—and that I was the one who destroyed you," Slade nearly shouted. He spared a peak around the corner of the wall, ensuring that no one was listening. "Your fate was written in the stars long ago and destiny will leave its mark."

"Men, at some time, are masters of their own fates. The fault isn't in the stars, but in ourselves," Oliver looked at Slade, his eyes pleading.

For one brief moment Felicity thought she saw something flicker behind Slade's eyes, some sign of life that must have existed before all of this. Then it died.

"Your mother was going to introduce me to your sister and I don't want to keep her waiting, right kid?" Slade smirked at Oliver and Oliver flinched. Slade took a step forward, leaning in to Oliver to whisper in his ear, and Felicity was close enough to hear his whisper:

_"Et tu Brute."_


	14. Chapter 14: Threads of Our Pasts

He stood breathing in the space that he shared with Felicity, afraid to look her in the eyes and afraid not to. Slade had ventured into his life by walking into the lives of the people he loved.

His eyes slowly slid up to meet Felicity's and she was waiting for him patiently, her blue eyes clear and unobstructed with her seldom worn contacts in place. She was holding out her hand and he placed his gently in hers.

"Um," she mumbled, he almost pulled away, wondering if Slade had hurt her, but she squeezed and continued. "That was nice, but I need your phone," she added.

"Oh," he muttered back, trying to decipher her mood. "Oh," he said again dumbly as he pulled the phone out of his breast pocket and handed it to her.

She took it easily in her slim fingers and unlocked his lock screen. He raised an eyebrow but she didn't notice. He shouldn't be surprised that she could hack his phone—she could hack federal databases. She raised the phone to her ear and waited; he could hear the faint ring on the other line.

"Hello?" she answered, relief coloring her features. "Dig, you're ok?"

Of course, her first thought would be of the comrade that Oliver had sent to her apartment to retrieve her.

"No, I'm fine," she lied easily and Oliver yet again questioned the toll that this life was taking on her. "We just had a bit of a problem and a run in with You-Know-Who—gosh that sounds like a Harry Potter reference, but you know who I mean so—" she was interrupted and Oliver tried to make out Dig's reaction.

"I promise Dig, I'm fine. Just get back to Oliver's ok?" she hung up the phone and handed it back to Oliver, stepping around him to head back to the party. He lightly touched her elbow, refusing to grab at it the way Slade had.

"Felicity," he whispered.

"I'm ok, really. He didn't hurt me," she turned back to look at him and her eyes were sincere. This woman could survive anything.

"I need to know that, that—well, that we're ok," he finally whispered out, looking at her carefully.

She hesitated, her hand slipping over his arm in the way that they had touched each other for months. Then it slid higher, curving around his face, before she answered.

"No matter what happens tonight," she stated slowly. "Come home with me tonight. Neither one of us should be alone," she was looking down, blushing, but at the end her eyes met his and he only nodded as he took her hand and led her out to find his sister.

He turned the corner to find Thea, tightly wrapped in Roy's arms, trying to be polite to Slade as Roy acted full on Alpha Male. In that moment, Oliver had never been more proud of Thea's choice in men.

"Thea," he kissed her on the cheek, successfully placing himself between Slade and his baby sister. "Roy," he turned to Roy, nodding in acknowledgement that this man was, in fact, the man he had put an arrow through all those years ago.

"Ollie," Thea whined. "Roy is being completely rude to mom's guest of honor," she threw a look to Roy, who simply rolled his eyes. "He's been acting all protective like since we decided to move in together," for one moment Oliver worried that Roy had pushed his sister too far, but then she turned to Roy and winked and the tightness in his chest loosened.

"Moving in together?" Slade rumbled. "That's a big step for someone so young," he looked at her carefully, obviously trying to ascertain weaknesses, flaws, anything he could use at leverage. Oliver grimaced, but Thea straightened her shoulders, hating to be considered too young for anything.

"Better than my brother, here," she challenged. "Nearly thirty and he still lives with mom," she rolled her eyes and Slade's eyes flashed to Oliver's. Oliver had no doubt that Slade already knew where everyone laid their heads.

"Interesting," he murmured. "Your brother must be attached to his family," Slade commented and Oliver heard the threat low in his voice.

"Of course he does," Thea challenged, her eyebrows raised in a challenge; Oliver recognized that look. Thea used it frequently on him when she sensed him being dishonest in some fashion. He would give her this, the girl was attentive.

"I was just making my way out, Ms. Queen, and your mother wanted me to meet you before I left," he murmured, leaning in to kiss her cheek as he spoke. His gaze landed on Oliver and Oliver caught Slade's look and Thea's flinch at the contact.

"Let me escort you out Mr. Wilson," he murmured, nodding to Felicity, who had stood silently by his side through the whole conversation. He gave Roy a look to stay with the girls as he walked with Slade.

When they were outside and away from earshot, standing next to Slade's Bentley, Oliver grabbed his arm, gaining Slade's attention.

"What do you want from me Slade? Do you want me to pay for Shado's death? Then kill me. A life for a life," Oliver muttered with desperation in his voice.

"No, I don't want one life," Slade shook his head. "I want all of the moments of the life I could have had—should have had, if you hadn't taken it from me," he growled.

"You can't reinvent the past," Oliver whispered; it was something he had told himself since he had come back from the island, yet somehow his past continually found a way into his present.

"Sure ya can, kid," Slade smirked. "People do it every damn day. It's the reason you hold onto that photo of Laurel in your wallet and why you can't turn Sara away even though she isn't the woman you remember her to be," Slade challenged. "That's the thing about the past, kid, it never stays buried long because we always give ourselves some way to remember—and that one thread, that one piece that allows us to remember, is the one thing that someone can grab onto and use to unravel everything," a threat hung low and heavy in Slade's voice and it brought Oliver up short.

"Don't," he begged. He couldn't fight this man, not physically, and mentally he still had trouble seeing him as an enemy.

"You sound desperate kid," Slade mocked him.

Oliver thought of the people in his life that he cared for, loved even, who depended on him to fight this fight and win—no matter the cost. "Maybe I am desperate," he stated as he stood straighter, looking the man in the eyes. "But remember this: the desperate usually succeed, because there is no other alternative," Oliver threatened.

With that he turned and walked back up the steps of his childhood home. He pushed past the greeters at the door and found himself in an abandoned entryway. The guest were all listening to Moira's speech about saving the world and feeding the hungry and whatever else she felt the need to lie about this evening.

And then he heard the click of heels at a rate he would recognize anywhere.

"Oliver," Felicity sighed when she finally saw him. "I was so worried. You were out there so long and you can't—" her voice broke and he realized that all of the stress from the past few hours was starting to show.

Without thinking, and clinging to the newly found desperation, he shoved off of the wall and stalked towards her. Her chest heaved with silent tears she was refusing to cry. He brushed his fingers carefully over her face, reading her eyes for any signs of fear—any hint that she feared the man, the killer, the CEO, the many sides of Oliver Queen that stood before her.

And when he saw nothing but himself reflected in her blue eyes, he crushed his mouth to hers.

She was surprised at first and it took her a moment longer than he expected for her to respond, so long in fact that he almost pulled away, but when he loosened his grip on the back of her head her lips danced across his and a silent celebration moved within him.

This wasn't how he had expected their first kiss be, honestly, he wasn't sure he had ever expected there to be a first kiss, if he would allow himself to feel this. And now he knew why. One look, one rambling conversation, one nervous giggle, one touch, one kiss—one would never be enough for him; he would always crave more.

Slowly, he broke away from her, trailing kisses across her jaw, the bridge of her nose, her eyelids, worshiping as he moved.

"Um," she murmured, her breath caressing his face.

He looked down at her, enjoying the blush that spread across her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. Suddenly he realized that that probably wasn't romantic, or considerate, or even—"

"Don't be," she smiled shyly up at him, interrupting his thoughts. "Let's go home," she whispered. She took his hand and led him to the one place he wanted to be.

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A/N: Ahhh! I've been waiting for forever to get to this part of the story! Hope you enjoyed and let me know what you thought!


	15. Chapter 15 Your Salvation

A/N: Thanks for all of the support from the last chapter! It was probably one of my favorite to write so far. I love hearing your feedback, especially as the story progresses and some of the missing pieces start to click into place. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

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Felicity shot Diggle a text as she and Oliver walked down the front steps of the Queen mansion. She threw one last glance over her shoulder, taking in the overstated castle-like "home" behind her; she cared for Oliver, but sometimes she forgot everything that came with him.

Despite the moment they had shared in the entryway, Oliver was still nervous, tense energy beside her and she knew that Oliver would be more comfortable if he was doing something—anything—to track down Slade and his plans.

She made a move for the back seat, expecting Oliver to sit up front with John, but instead he climbed in behind her, pulling her against his side as John tossed her a look in the review mirror. He didn't say anything though, and for that she was grateful. He pulled out of the ridiculously long drive and turned west, towards the Glades.

Oliver sat up straight, but before he could ask John to take them to Felicity's—god, she definitely didn't want to see Dig's reaction to _that_—she interrupted him, explaining the detour.

"We need to work," she said simply, squeezing his hand between both of hers. "I hate mysteries and you hate murderous psychopaths coming back from the dead to threaten your family," she added as way of explanation.

He nodded, as if he refused to speak. The silence that filled the car pressed in around her and for one moment she wondered if he regretted their kiss. As if reading her thoughts, his fingers twined with hers and he raised their hands to his lips, trailing a light kiss across her knuckles. When she looked into his eyes, they held all of the words that neither one of them could say at the moment.

When they pulled up to the foundry, all of the lights were off; it was just before nine, too early for the club scene. Thea obviously was still at the party. They allowed Dig to walk in first, Oliver slowing her down just before the door.

"Felicity," he murmured, pulling her closer. He looked at her closely, but he said nothing more. She realized then that he was afraid and the worst sort of fear was a fear that one refused to admit.

"I know," she whispered back. She refused to see this man—this man who was so strong, so powerful both with and without the hood—be afraid on her account. "You think that I will be your weakness, the chink in your armor that Slade will use against you," Oliver opened his mouth to interrupt her, but the fire in her eyes made him think twice. "I will not allow you to consider me your damnation, your mortal flaw, your sin. Perhaps I can be your salvation just as you have been mine," she stated, her voice sure.

"You've already saved me," he whispered, his forehead bending to connect with hers. "In more ways then you will ever know."

"Then prove it," she said simply as she turned to walk into the Arrow Cave. She turned back with one final thought. "You think that you have to choose—this battle with Slade or finally allowing yourself to care about someone," her voice broke slightly; when something that you've wanted for so long finally happens, it's hard to _not_ get emotional. "It's not an either-or situation."

"I can't ask you to fight this," he argued back.

"You didn't," she pointed out. "From the beginning it has always been _my choice_ and I've always picked this side—your side. And not just me. When Ivo pulled that gun out and told you to pick between Shado and Sara—you thought you were _alone_, Oliver, and now you think you have to do it alone again. You don't!" she shouted back, using her angry voice.

He looked at her for one moment longer than she felt comfortable and she started to turn away. She had Oliver for all of fifteen minutes before she drove him away with one of her rambling speeches. Then she felt his fingers brush gently over her shoulders.

"Thank you," he murmured, his lips brushing her forehead.

"For what?" she asked, genuinely confused.

"For always saying what I need to hear," he said simply as they walked together into the Arrow Cave.

She fired up her computers and began pulling information on what she knew. She pulled the security footage from her apartment, but he had parked his car in a blind spot. She shivered at the fact that he had _known_ where she would be most vulnerable.

Then she started doing some digging of her own. Any information she could find on her father's research from before he left. Oliver thought this was about him, but she had a bargaining chip of her own—she was connected to every person that Slade wanted to hurt. Slade obviously had no clue who she was and she had no plans of telling him, but when it came down between physical power and knowledge, knowledge always won.

"Getting anywhere?" John asked behind her, making her jump slightly. She minimized the screen, grateful that he was better with a gun than a computer.

"Working on it," she muttered back.

"I meant with Oliver," he crossed his arms and gave her his big-brother face.

She raised an eyebrow and turned back to her screens.

"I'm serious Felicity," he said as he waved his hands in mock surrender. "It's not that I don't approve, because I do," he added quickly. "Just, right now, with everything going on…" John's voice trailed off and Felicity looked around for Oliver before she answered.

"You're worried, I understand and I'm grateful," she looked at him sincerely and that seemed to relax him. "But Slade is going to hurt me regardless of my well-uh whatever with Oliver. He showed up at my house today and—"

"I'm not worried about Slade," Dig interrupted.

"What?" Felicity asked, confused of the possibility of a new threat.

"You survived Helena, The Dodger, The Count—Felicity, you're braver than most combat soldiers," Dig said as he rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath about being slightly crazy. "I don't think any villain is going to hurt you unless you let him, but the _one person_ who I think does have the power to hurt you?" he looked at her carefully and she stared back, unwilling to let him off the hook of saying the name aloud. "Oliver Queen," he sighed.

"I know," she looked him in the eyes, knowing that he was right. "But he also has the power to save me," she shrugged; it was a risk she had calculated soon after she realized how she felt about him.

Dig nodded and began to open his mouth to speak, but Felicity would never know what words of wisdom he had to say.

"Oliver!" Roy's voice filled the basement, bouncing from the walls in stereo sound.

"What is it," Felicity asked, rushing up to the wild eyed boy who still wore his sport coat from the campaign dinner.

"I need Oliver," he shrugged past her, nearly knocking her over in the process. Suddenly Oliver's hand came out and caught her, righting her before it landed like a vice grip on Roy's shoulder.

"What the hell is going on?" Oliver roared, glaring at Roy.

"They have her," Roy's voice broke and Felicity saw that, despite the super human strength he possessed, he was broken. "He took Thea," he choked out.

"Who?" Oliver's face was ashen as he guessed. "Slade?"

"No," Roy said as he looked Oliver steadily in the eyes. "Malcolm Merlyn."


	16. Chapter 16: Fates Far Worse

A/N: Ok, so it's been awhile, and I'm sorry. School and work are completely nuts, but I promise to try and be more diligent. To make up for it, this chapter is longer than normal and is also told from three POVs. It starts out with Sara's - I know some don't like her, but no worries... Oliver and Felicity are going to make it (established kiss and the next chapter has a totally awesome Olicity moment!) but I want Sara to have an end game as well. So I hope you enjoy!

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Sara watched Oliver, his grip white-knuckled, bent over the back of Felicity's chair as she typed away furiously, hunched over her computers. She was grateful that the pain that had pierced her chest so often since her return had seemed to dissipate after the babbling blonde had seemed to accept her back without grudge.

She studied the two of them carefully, noticing a difference in the way they moved around each other. Felicity had always watched Oliver move about the foundry and Oliver had always pretended to not notice his IT sidekick, but something was _different_ and Sara couldn't help but think it was for the better.

Now as Felicity watched Oliver prepare to retrieve Thea, she warred with her body between moving closer and being too closer; and Sara finally understood the difference, not because of her keen sense of observation, but because she was a woman.

Felicity used to watch Oliver leave for a fight with concern—the kind that resulted from longing for something that _could be._ Now, she watched Oliver gather his bow and quiver with hooded fear in her eyes and Sara knew that that was the result of knowing exactly what you had to lose.

"I'm going with you," Sara stated, sure of herself, or at least sure of that fact that, despite the many things she had failed at since returning, she would not fail at bringing Oliver back to Felicity Smoak.

"Why are you even here?" Oliver spat back, unwilling to stop his forward momentum to even spare her a glance. It wasn't until Felicity spoke that he stopped moving.

"I called her," she said easily. "You need her help in taking down Merlyn," she said, hesitating as if she wasn't fully disclosing something. "And Dig might have been able to save your ass last time, but he has no business going up against a member of the League," she shot an apologetic glance to John, who had been loading his weapon in the corner.

Oliver approached her, but instead of yelling or trying to argue with her, they simply glared, neither refusing to back down. Sara realized that Oliver had finally found someone willing to stand on equal footing with him, instead of above him, as Laurel always had or below him, as she had always felt she had been.

"Just come back to me," Felicity whispered, placing her hand gently on Oliver's arm. Immediately his features softened and he turned to Sara with a nod.

She grabbed her mask and her bow staff, leaving her knives behind. She spared a glance at Felicity, thankful yet again that she hadn't accidentally killed her that night against Tockman.

There were moments that could change the course of one's life. When the ship had wrecked, she had been changed, a slow, gradual transformation into the assassin who had come back to Starling looking for redemption and only bringing heartache.

Then there was the moment that she had thrown that knife, meant for a killer, but on a path for a woman who was nothing but pure light. In that moment, Sara had seen clearly the person she had become and, horrified, she vowed that she would change.

She had always been looking for other's to save her. When she first came back, she thought that Oliver could save her as he had on the island, only to find that he himself had changed. Then she attributed that changed to Felicity—that she had been his salvation, and in a way, maybe she had, but Sara had finally realized that you can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved.

When her family had rejected her, when she thought that Oliver had failed her, she blamed them for everything that had gone wrong in her life. Oliver had been right when he had told her she can't go back—and honestly, to which part would she go back? To Nyssa? Before the island? Before she slept with her sister's boyfriend?

She gripped her bow staff and slipped her mask on, looking for Oliver to head out.

It was time Sara saved herself—and maybe saved someone else in the process.

Felicity's hands shook as she dialed the pre-programmed number in her phone. It rang once before a deep, British voice answered on the other end.

"Ms. Smoak," Walter stated formerly.

"The people you work for—the ones you warned me about—who are they?" she asked, her voice more sure than her body. She shut her eyes, praying he would just answer her damn question.

"Felicity," he sighed. "This isn't something to get tied up in," he warned. "It isn't a game."

"You don't think I know that!?" she nearly shouted, her hysteria shimmering through her calm façade. "You want a game? Sure, how about this one? The one where _your _ex wife has an affair on her first husband with a psychopath _assassin_ for Moses' sake and now he's back from the dead to kidnap his daughter—whose paternity _you_ help cover up for _another_ psychopath's campaign image!" she shouted, no longer trying to hide her angry voice. She looked up to see Sara standing in front of her, slightly slack mouthed with awe.

"Thea is missing?" Walter asked, panicked.

"Some game, huh?" Felicity muttered, sick of the messes that people made.

"Moira must not know—Malcolm couldn't have orchestrated this large of an event this quickly without resources—he can't be acting alone—"

"Give me the name of the person supporting Moira's campaign Walter—the one that you and everyone else is so afraid of," Felicity asked flatly, her suspicion, already formed, just seeking verification.

"Wilson, Slade Wilson."

With that Felicity hung up, unwilling to give Walter anymore details.

"That was impressive for an IT girl," Sara muttered, her head slightly bowed.

"Yeah, we can drain your bank accounts and have vicious phone conversations," Felicity rolled her eyes, getting back to her computers.

"I'm sorry," Sara said as she looked Felicity in the eyes.

"For what?" Felicity asked. There were many things that Sara had to be sorry for and Felicity didn't want to assume.

"For Oliver, for my behavior when I returned, for nearly killing you," Sara said, still straight faced. "I will bring him back to you," she said with a nod. "Thea too."

Felicity looked at Sara and saw a glimpse of the woman she might have been if she wasn't bound by five years of hell and a mask. She nodded, a silent agreement passing between the two women.

"Like I said before, we all do things we regret," Felicity said easily. "However, you screw with Oliver again and I will—"

"Ladies," Oliver asked, unease crossing his features as he hustled down the steps. "Felicity what do we know?"

"Slade is behind her kidnapping," she said, getting down to business. She could put any personal feelings she had about Sara aside for now—really, she liked the girl. She was a survivor, and so long as she was _trying_ that was all anyone could ask of her—oh and not sleeping with Oliver.

"Then you need me too," Roy said, stepping out from the shadows.

"No way," Oliver said, shaking his head.

"Oliver, he's right," Felicity interceded on Roy's behalf and continued before Oliver could argue. "_Only_ on the condition that your main objective is to go in and retrieve Thea while Sara and Oliver take care of Slade and Malcolm," she explained to the two boys.

Oliver only shook his head, and Felicity realized that he was stressed, extremely stressed. The tension had been radiating off of him since he had seen Slade enter with her on his arm.

Sara and Roy left first, Diggle going to retrieve the car so that he could be close if necessary. Felicity watched Oliver take the foundry steps three at a time and tried to ignore the dark feeling pooling in the pit of her stomach.

"Where am I going?" Oliver asked, his wrist revving the throttle of his motorcycle expertly as Sara pulled up next to him on her own. Roy would follow in the car with Dig.

"Malcolm Merlyn's house," Felicity said into his ear. The tension around his chest eased slightly and he realized that Felicity had that affect on him, regardless of the situation.

He rode through the night, trying to work a strategy for a situation with too many unknown variables. He and Sara parked their bikes out front of the Merlyn mansion, not even worrying about discretion. Both Slade and Malcolm knew that they were coming.

Roy jumped out of the car and Oliver was grateful to see life back in his eyes. Oliver wouldn't be able to focus on saving Thea if he had to focus on keeping Roy safe as well. He spared a glance at Sara and nodded before the three started the steps to the abandoned mansion.

When they entered, Oliver took the lead, bow drawn, and Roy followed, mildly safer between the two trained members of the team. Oliver still regretted him being here, but Felicity was right; Roy would burn this mansion to the ground just so Thea would be seen above the rubble.

He held up a fist when he heard a muffled cry and Merlyn's strained voice. He wouldn't have halted, but there was something _off_ about Malcolm's usually calm form of speech.

"I _loved_ Tommy, Thea you have to believe that," Merlyn whimpered. "He wasn't supposed to die that night and—" Merlyn's words were cut off by a strangled gasp of pain and at that point both Sara and Oliver took off in a sprint.

They rounded the corner of the Merlyn family room to find both Malcolm and Thea tied to a chair. Thea's mouth was taped and behind Merlyn stood Slade Wilson, mask over face, blade drawn, as he forced Merlyn to confess his sins to his daughter.

Before anyone noticed their presence, Oliver motioned for Roy to stay hidden unless absolutely necessary. If Thea saw him, there was no judging her reaction.

"How nice of you to join us," Slade stated easily in his Australian accent. "We were having a family bonding moment, care to join?" Oliver could imagine the slight arch of the man's eyebrow as he phrased the question.

Suddenly it clicked into place. Slade didn't plan on killing Thea—he meant to separate her from the only family she thought she had left at this point. Her mother had cheated and lied, the father she had grown up loving wasn't her father, her biological father was a monster, and Slade planned on exposing her only remaining half-brother as a lying vigilante murderer.

"Don't do this Slade," Sara spoke beside him and yet again he silently thanked Felicity for her foresight.

"You won't kill me," he looked directly at Oliver and Oliver couldn't help but flinch. "But there are fates far worse than death," with that he swung the blade around to meet Merlyn's face, the blood splattering against Thea causing her to cry out against the restraints.

Roy stepped out from behind the wall at the sound of her cries, and although he had been silent, Thea's eyes were drawn to him as if by gravity.

"Roy, _no,_" Sara tried to warn him, but his focus was on Thea. Oliver started towards Slade—creating a physical barrier between Roy as he worked to free her.

"Just get her out of here," he grumbled, as he and Sara began an elaborate dance with a man he had once considered a brother.

He and Sara moved as one as they fought a force more powerful than both of them. His focus was so intent on Slade that he hadn't noticed Merlyn escape his restraints to pin Roy to the floor, Thea refusing to leave his side despite the fact that she was free.

"Thea, leave," Oliver ordered, knowing it was useless.

"Roy," she mumbled incoherently.

Oliver realized that Thea was losing it and that Roy was afraid to fight in front of Thea—afraid of showing her the monster he had become. Oliver couldn't blame him that.

He spared a glance at Sara and she nodded once, unwilling to lose her focus with Slade. Oliver stalked towards Merlyn, shoving him off of the boy fighting for control underneath.

Malcolm was covered in his own blood, but he was still a trained member of the League of Assassins. Oliver shielded a blow before he caught a knife to his arm—a knife that Malcolm must have used to escape.

"She's more my blood than yours," Malcolm growled, any shred of humanity gone.

Oliver reached for an arrow, but was brought short by a sharp cry from Sara, before he could react, Roy was on Slade, throwing the full grown man across the room. Sara lay in a heap on the floor as Diggle raced into the room.

"John?" Thea questioned.

"Get them both out of here!" Oliver shouted, but Dig's wide eyes weren't enough warning. Before Oliver could react, Malcolm had ripped Oliver's feet out from under him and stood ready to kill with his knife.

Until two arrows pierced Malcolm's neck—placed perfectly at the carotid artery.

For one moment Oliver thought that the archer that stood poised behind Malcolm's crumpled body was Shado, her ghost, or her person—either would be just as likely in his world. Then the figure rushed to Sara's unmoving body on the floor and threw back her hood to reveal the almond eyes of Nyssa al'Ghul.

The woman brushed her fingers gently over a spot at Sara's neck and the blonde stirred to life, shock crossing her features at seeing Nyssa's face. Instead of an embrace, though, Nyssa stood and looked at Oliver.

"Slade was right. There are fates far worse than death," she murmured. "You are not one deserving of them," with that she helped Diggle carry Sara towards the car.

Oliver looked towards Roy and Thea; Thea tried to scream at Roy about lying to her, but her voice was too hoarse. Oliver looked around carefully to ensure that Slade had escaped before approaching them, his head down, his face buried deep within the hood.

"Thea, I was only trying to—"

"Roy Harper if you say 'protect you' I will strangle you with my bear hands and I swear to god I don't care what kind of steroids you've been taking!"

"They aren't steroids!" Roy shouted back. Oliver looked up, startled, but Roy wasn't Mirakuru angry, just the kind of angry you get when you save your girlfriend's life and she doesn't appreciate it.

"Roy! I don't care just be honest!"

"I can't be honest," he mumbled, sparing a quick glance at Oliver before he continued. "It's not my secret to tell," he looked at her grimly before her face fell.

"I can't take this," she laughed out bitterly. "Your lies, my mother's lies, my father's lies! Everyone lies to me! Oliver, god I have Oliver, but he's never around—"

"Stop," Roy bit off bitterly. "Just stop, I _love_ you Thea and if I could—"

"No, you stop. I don't want lies—"

"And I don't want to lie to you!" Roy interrupted, shouting back just as angry. Oliver just stood there, ignored by the two of them. He was watching his sister's world far apart and in a way, it was causing his world to shatter as well.

"Then why do you?" she challenged, but her voice sounded like a plea.

Something inside Oliver broke then. Slade had taken Thea to force Oliver's hand, to bring his lies to light. This was Oliver's fault.

"Because I told him he had to," Oliver said, stepping forward, slipping off the hood and looking directly at Thea.

"_Oliver?_"


	17. Chapter 17: Strong Enough to Kill You

Thea looked at Roy, her fingers shaking with rage. She might not have whatever kind of miracle drug Roy had, but she was certain that pure female-pissed-off-power could get the job done.

"Please don't kill Oliver babe," he looked at her as they sat in the back seat, Diggle decidedly avoiding them both as he drove them to whatever kind of secret hideout Oliver had made up since he came home.

"Don't tell me what to do!" she shouted back and Roy only nodded. If he was supposed to be so hulk-like all the time, she had expected more of a fight from him. Somehow, though, his anger never surfaced around her. Fucking love.

She slowly simmered in the seat, planning her speech to Oliver. Something along the lines of disownment and lying and maybe throwing in parts about being no better than her mother just for good measure.

She hadn't realized she was scrubbing at her blood stained arms until Roy took her hands gently in his.

"He loves you," he provided in way of explanation.

He loved her, he wanted to protect her, it was safer this way—these were all things Oliver had tried to tell her as she stormed out of the Merlyn mansion. She hadn't even been able to look at him.

Then she had sat and thought about everything he had done for her and she had never even taken the time to consider it.

After she had been kidnapped, he had come for her, saved her from those men who wanted vengeance against her mother.

He had saved Roy on that train. Roy hadn't even wanted to live, but Oliver had gone after him, risked so much, because she loved him; she remembered standing in Verdant, crying as Oliver left her and she had hated him for it. Now, she realized, he had left to bring her back someone she couldn't live without.

A lot of people assumed that she acted like a spoiled princess because of her upbringing, and perhaps it played a part; however, the biggest reason was self defense. No one wants to love someone who acts like they don't love anything else, let alone themselves. Roy, of all people had been the first outside of her family to realize her behavior was a defense mechanism, but Oliver had always known. Over the years, she had just forgotten it.

When she stepped out of the car at the back of Verdant, she had to laugh. Right under her nose, all this time. Roy led her down the steps to the basement that she didn't even know existed and she took a deep breath, prepared to let Oliver have it.

Then she saw the look on Felicity's face. There is only one person Felicity would look that concerned for and that person happened to be her brother—or half brother as it were.

"Oliver?" she half whispered and half gasped as she watched Sara stitch her bruised and bloody brother.

"Hey Speedy," he greeted, not even wincing at the pain.

All of the cruel words she had reserved for this moment vanished on her tongue as she crossed the space and fitted herself against her brother.

"You're not mad?" he asked, surprised.

"Furious," she whispered against his neck. He chuckled. "I'm seriously pissed Ollie, but right now, I want a shower, and you need to get fixed up," she looked at him and winced once for him. The gash on his arm didn't look quite as bad up close, but his face was going to be bruised for at least two weeks. She looked over at Felicity who had moved to the corner, giving them space.

Thea made a move to leave but turned one last time to play the part of little sister.

"Oh and Ollie?" she said sweetly. He looked at her expectantly. "You better take Felicity home play nurse because she looks like she about to worry her hands off in the corner," Thea smirked as she left, her brother wildly looking to an embarrassed Felicity Smoak.

Thea took Roy's hand as they headed out of the foundry. Her life was far from perfect, but then again, who would ever want that?

* * *

Sara finished sewing up Oliver and then dismissed herself while Felicity finished up. Sara wondered deeper into the foundry and found Nyssa sitting stoically in the chair.

"Why are you here?" Sara asked; she had to know if Nyssa had returned only for Malcolm or if she had come to rescind her promise about Sara's dismissal from the League as well.

"Come back with me—come back _for_ me Jin si que," Nyssa whispered.

"I can't," Sara stated simply, she no longer felt the need to apologize—she had enough to atone for without creating more unnecessary wrongs.

"I know," Nyssa sighed, standing. "You loved me—" she held up her hand when Sara made a move to argue. "You loved me because you needed me. I had hoped that one day you would learn to love me as I love you. Eventually, I had hoped that you would _want_ me, not just _need _me—there is a great difference between those two types of love," Nyssa stated simply.

"I'm sorry," Sara whispered.

"Don't apologize," Nyssa bit out harshly. "There are things in this life to apologize for: destroying family, tearing apart lovers, the death of innocents," Nyssa explained, and the faces of Slade, Oliver, and Malcolm Merlyn appeared in Sara's mind. "Those are guilts that must be paid for a thousand fold, but realizing what you need in a lover, that is not worthy of an apology," Nyssa whispered as she touched Sara's face, just over the gash that Slade had left with the back of his head—the one that had knocked her unconscious before Nyssa had shot Merlyn.

"And what do you need?" Sara asked, perhaps selfishly. Nyssa closed her eyes and backed away before answering.

"I want someone who wants me Jin si que," Nyssa answered. "A word of warning in your fight against Slade: you and Oliver are the same—" yet again Nyssa raised her hand when Sara attempted to argue. "You both think that wanting someone will bring hurt, destruction, and death," Nyssa glanced over at Felicity and Oliver; Oliver watched her carefully, as if even his gaze could break her. "But everyone fights for something, Sara."

"Slade thinks that he's fighting for love too," Sara argued half heartedly.

"No, Slade is fighting for revenge, waging a war with the drug in his system—he is more beast than man. Slade fights for _something_, but there is no one more powerful than one who fights for _someone._"

And with that Nyssa turned and disappeared into the night.

* * *

Oliver watched Felicity fuss over him, trying not to smile. She had always been concerned about his safety, but he was certain that she was about to give herself a panic attack.

"Felicity, I promise I'm fine," he stated again for the hundredth time.

"You don't look fine," she sighed, coming to sit beside him on the makeshift gurney. "Your face," she winced as she dragged a finger slowly down his tender skin.

He shrugged until she pulled a compact mirror out and held it up, revealing a black and purple bruised man on the other side. It wasn't an attractive sight; he hadn't even felt those blows against Slade during the fight.

"Guess these means I don't have to go to work tomorrow," he teased. She moaned and then he remembered the board meeting that he was supposed to attend. Good thing Oliver Queen, CEO, had a tendency for not showing up.

He grabbed her then, roughly, taking advantage of her distraction to plant his lips on hers. Before he had left, he told himself that if he survived this, if he brought Thea home safely, he would finally believe that Felicity wasn't a dream. He still half expected her to shove him away, disgusted.

Instead, she pulled him closer, her thin fingers winding into his hair. He tipped her chin up until her mouth opened to his and he felt the sigh that he had been waiting for all night.

"Oliver?"

Diggle's voice cleared behind him and Felicity practically flew out of his arms, her face red, pulling down her dress. Oliver drew his eyes away from her porcelain legs to shoot Dig a glare.

"There's been some new stuff come through on Slade; Detective Lance called," he said in his crisp tone. Oliver didn't miss the protective look he shot Felicity or the nod that Felicity gave in return, giving Dig the all clear.

Tonight, Oliver did not want to be the Arrow, or Oliver Queen, or Ollie—he wanted to be Felicity's—whatever the hell she thought he could be. Hero, human, monster, whatever made her want to stay, he would be it. Instead, he stood, kissed her on the forehead, and followed Dig to the table that held his quiver and arrows as well as the phone he used to contact Lance.

Oliver picked up the phone and dialed, looking over at Felicity who had returned to her computers. She had pointed the screens away from him and she was holding her cell phone to her ear. He felt a slight pang of unease shoot through his chest, but he trusted this woman with his life, so he turned to the task and at hand.

The faster he finished with the Lance, the quicker he could take Felicity home and forget about this mess of a day—and plan for tomorrow.

* * *

Felicity pointed her monitors away from prying eyes in the Arrow Cave. She typed furiously as her phone rang in her ear three times before Walter answered.

"I don't think you're the type of guy to fight for the wrong team, Mr. Steele," she began, trying to sound like Oliver when he threatened people.

"Thea is ok?" he asked, his voice high.

"She's safe," Felicity said, unwilling to confirm more. "I need your help though."

"Felicity, I already nearly lost one daughter to this fight, I don't want to risk another," Walter pleaded. Felicity was momentarily confused, but then she realized that Thea wasn't his daughter anymore than she was—Walter was just a good man.

"Then help me," she whispered. "I know what he is," she looked around to see Oliver still on the phone. "I can't say how or why, but I do. He's going to keep coming after people we both care about until he's stopped. I don't need anything right now, I just need to know that when the time comes, you're on my side," Felicity begged.

"I can't change your mind?" he asked.

"No," she shook her head, biting her nail.

"I will do whatever I can. How do you plan on stopping him though Felicity?" she could hear Walter's lack of trust in his voice. She couldn't blame him. She didn't have his political affiliations. She didn't have Oliver's knowledge of weaponry or Sara's knowledge of combat. She was a simple IT girl.

She hung up the phone before her answer could slip out for Walter to overhear. She closed her eyes, finally willing herself to say it aloud.

"Because I'm the one he will want," she whispered. She wasn't sure why it had taken her so long to put the pieces together. Slade wanted to indirectly hurt everyone who had a connection to his past and she happened to have a connection to all of them. Slade might not know it yet, but that meant she had the upper hand.

"Who were you talking to?" Oliver whispered into the back of her neck, the heat from his breath sending shivers down her arms.

"I called Walter to let him know Thea was safe," she explained, half of the truth.

Oliver nodded, spinning her to face him as he planted a chaste kiss on her forehead before pulling her up out of the chair to take her home. Suddenly, she realized that she didn't want to let things go like this—she needed this uncertainty, this fear, this knowledge that at any moment, everything could go to shit. She didn't want Oliver to treat her like he would break her at any moment.

She stopped walking, their arms pulling tight at the distance. She moved herself into the space of his chest and stood on her tiptoes as she kissed him firmly on the lips, refusing to back down. She grabbed him by the back of the head, holding him to her.

He met her with equal passion, but he didn't move to go further. She nearly growled in frustration.

"Felicity, what is wrong?" he looked at her with concern and she nearly laughed at what he must be seeing—her, with wild eyes, tired of being pushed away by Oliver Queen.

"I want you," she demanded, pulling him closer. He grabbed her wrists, restraining her.

"I think we've established that I'm not going anywhere," he whispered, kissing her gently. She didn't want gently, though. She wanted all of the fear at waiting for him to come home, all of the anger and sleepless nights lying awake trying to decipher his hidden touches and looks, she wanted the Oliver who wasn't afraid to take what he wanted.

"Then prove it," she challenged, taking a step back, looking at him. The foundry was empty and she felt like they had been slowly torturing themselves long enough.

"Felicity, I won't do this to you, I won't treat you this way," he whispered, taking a step closer as she took a step back, bumping into her desk.

"What way Oliver? Like you actually _want_ me?" she looked at him and she knew that he cared for her, hell if he was honest with himself he probably loved her, but he was—"shit, Oliver, you're afraid," she whispered, stepping closer. It was his turn to retreat this time.

"Yes!" he shouted, his hands up. "I can't risk something happening to you or hell, Slade could kill me at—"

"Don't. You. Dare." She warned, breathing heavy. She would not let Oliver talk about his life that way. "You will win this," she stated easily, slipping her hands around his waist, refusing to let him back away.

"Felicity, he could hurt you because of me. Or he could hurt me and then you're left alone. Things were so much easier before, less complicated," he whispered against her hair.

Felicity took a deep breath. Courage was never really her thing. She was never that girl who could ask for a guy's number, let alone stand before him easily baring herself wide open, but that was exactly what she did.

She took a step back, grabbed the zipper of her dress between her trembling fingers, and let it drop to the floor.

"Before," she whispered, her voice shaky. "Before was torture, at least for me. Either you were lying then, when you said you didn't want me but you couldn't stay away; or you're lying now when you say you do want me, but you will barely even look at me, let alone touch me," her voice grew stronger on every word, matching the look in Oliver's eyes.

She could see the battle raging across his face. She knew that he wanted her, that he cared for her, that what they had was real. She also knew that Oliver had too many demons trying to hold him back. Drastic times called for drastic measures.

When Oliver finally stepped forward and kissed her, his lips bruising hers the way she had always thought they would, she gasped at the feeling of his hands on her bare skin. She shut her eyes to the foundry, consumed in the feeling of Oliver Queen.

It was fitting that she would lose herself here, of all places. This is where she lost the distinctive lines of black and white that she had lived in most of her life. This is where she had lost her heart to a man under a hood. This is where she thought she had lost him for good.

As everything fell into place she wondered if she would be able to live without Oliver Queen. Then she thought of her connections to Slade—through Oliver, through Sara, through her father—and she wondered if she could possibly live with him; he had always thought that being with him would put her in danger, when in fact, it was just the opposite. If Slade ever discovered who she was, _whose_ she was, he could use it to destroy Oliver.

She felt a small piece of something break inside of her as she realized what she had to do.

It was always what you couldn't see coming that ended up being strong enough to kill you.

* * *

A/N: Ah! Everything is finally coming together and what has been in my brain for weeks is finally ending up before your eyes! Felicity has a plan - and oh is it a good one! More to come soon! Had some trouble updating for awhile; kept receiving some kind of error, but the awesome smart people of FanFiction have taken care it! Hope you enjoyed and I will update again soon! Thanks for the support and I love you all!


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